

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.TIZ^Copyright No.. 

ShelL..V^2..lT I I 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 














TALES OF THE SIERRAS 


BY 

J. W. iHAYES. 

U 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 


JOHN L. 



CASSIDY.. 



5595 






.V 




TWO COPitii HiiCEl VfiX), 


•■/brary of Congrttu 
Offlcooft*, 

JUN 1 3 1900 


of Copyrljfcf^ 


SECOND COPY, 


63319 

COPYRIGHTED 1900. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 





DEDICATION. 


To my beloved little son, Benjamin Ladd, whose 
advent into this world has brought added happiness and 
comfort to me, this book is af¥ectionately inscribed. 


«■ 





CONTENTS. 


The Throckmortons, ------ 17 

Sun Tee’s Courtship, ----- 23 

The Hermit of Telegraph Hill, - - - - 27 

Carrying the War Into China, - - _ 35 

Whiskey Flat, ------- 39 

Lost Opportunities, ----- 55 

“Pass Me Not,” - 59 

Welcoming the President, - - - 63 

“What’s Atin’ You.” ----- 69 

Pioneer and Modern Telegraphy, - - - 73 

Billy McGinniss’ Wake, ----- 81 

A Messenger Boy’s Trip to London, - - 85 

A Piute Detective, ------ 89 

Across the Sierras, ------ 95 

Digging Wells by Telephone, - - - - 99 

Enterprise in Emergency, - - - - 103 

Some Reminiscences, - - - - - - 107 

A Youthful Don Quixote, - - - - m 

Oysters Cause Wire Trouble, _ - . . 115 

The Carson Canning Company, - - - 117 

Bran Again, - - . - - - - 121 

Col. Dickey’s Paper Weight, - - - - 123 

The Cowboy Dispatcher, ----- 131 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Frontispiece. 

A Reckonin’ Party, 

Ezra, A Dude, ------ 

The Countess, - ; - 

Telegraph Laundry, ----- 

Around the Camp Fire, - - - - - 

Jim Murphy’s Last Resting Place, 

Ah Suey and His Outfit, . - - - 

Chinese Bulletin Board, - - - - 

Edith Wythe, ------- 

Rencontre With Indians, - - - - 

Desolation, ------- 

“Do Not Pass Me By,” - - - - 

The President’s Reception at Virginia City, - 
A Well Qualified Superintendent, 

Touching the Wire to Yakima, - - - 

Remnants of the Wake, - . - - 

Mahala at The Bar, 

Some Reminiscences, ----- 

Jimmy in Need of a Shave, - - - - 

A Youthful Don Quixote, - - - - 

Teddy, The Terror, ------ 

The BiggevSt Injun in Omaha, 

Sim in the Wilds of Omaha, - - - - 

The Tipperary Custom Mill, 

Proceeding to Business, 

A Penitentiary Offense in Salt Lake, - 
Chasing the San Francisco Train, - - - 

Ikey Apologizes, 


I 


16 

- 22 
22 

- 25 
27 

- 33 
35 

- 37 
39 

- 45 
53 

- 59 
66 , 

- 78 
82 

- 83 
92 

- 107 
108 

- Ill 
111 

- 113 
113 

- 121 
126 

- 128 
133 

- 135 


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PREFACE. 


The opportunity has at length offered itself for me 
to comply with an oft-repeated request; namely, to col- 
lect my stories published in various periodicals, and add 
to them many of later date which have never before ap- 
peared in print. 

In presenting “TALES OF THE SIERRAS’^ to the 
public, I do so in the belief that it will find general favor 
with its readers. I do not hope to “fill a long-felt want,'' 
but I do anticipate filling a niche all my own. I have 
not followed any well-trodden path in my style of litera- 
ture, but have rather sought to be entirely original. 

Some of my readers may think that my characters 
are too highly drawn, but I wish to assure them that 
such is not the case. The stories are founded on facts, 
with just enough of an elasticity of the truth to render 
them interesting and entertaining. There really existed 
an “Ezra Throckmorton,” as I have described him, and 
the character of Mellissa, the Countess, is a faithful por- 
trayal of his sister. Visitors to Mount Dana, in the high 
Sierras, will have pointed out to them the monument 
of Jim Murphy, the “Hermit of Telegraph Hill," by the 
simple sheepherder. This mausoleum, the grandest in 
the world, with its crude and weather-beaten inscription, 
defies the ravages of time, and will stand for ages. Many 
may read the story of little Edith Wythe and drop a tear 
to her untimely demise, marveling at the same time over 
the dauntless courage of her brother Dexter. 

No irreverence is intended to the memory of Presi- 
dent William Orton in my sketch of “Welcoming the 


13 


14 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


President.” I merely wish to illustrate the freedom 
which life in the Far West engenders in the hearts of the 
people here. 

I will be much pleased if the perusal of this book 
assists its readers in gleaning the lesson of looking at the 
happy side of life at all times, and thus making a truism 
of the lines: 

Laugh and the world laughs with you, 

Weep and you weep alone; 

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth. 

It has trouble enough of its own.” 

THE AUTHOR. 



V 






















THE THROCKMORTONS. 


I T was a proud day in the life of young Jack Hamlin 
when the superintendent at Louisville promoted him 
from messenger to a position as night operator at 
Mountain Top. There was little expected of a night 
operator at this point, but as the north-^bound express 
passe'd the south-bound flyer at this place it was deemed 
necessary to maintain an office. It was an uninviting 
scene that met Jack's gaze on his arrival at Mountain 
Top. The little shack of a depot was in the midst of a 
small clearing, and was dirt-begrimed and inhospitable- 
looking. There were no other houses visible, but to the 
east of the station was a little clearing from which a tiny 
volume of smoke curled up to the tops of the pine trees, 
where the wind took it up, speedily melting it from view. 

Jack's attention was attracted to a motley crowd of 
^'natives," who looked askance at him when he jumped 
off the train; but it was not till the morrow that he be- 
came acquainted with the simple peasantry of the place. 

The south-bound Gulf express is due at Mountain 
Top at 6 P. M. Half an hour before this time, our ob- 
server, as he stood at the station looking eastward, saw 
a singular sight. A number of curiously clad ^‘natives’' 
were coming over to the station. They were walking 
single file, and their shambling gait was as grotesque- 
looking as were the garments that covered them. They 
were evidently members of the same family, judging by 
the step-ladder-like regularity of the sizes of the children. 
The father of the family had his trousers hitched up 
with one piece of a gallus, the other half of which seemed 
to have been handed down to his oldest hopeful. A chip 
hat, minus crown, partly hid the fiery-red hair of the 


2 


17 


18 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


elder Throckmorton. A hickory shirt and blue jeans, 
with the aforesaid solitary suspender, completed the rai* 
ment of the aristocrat of Mountain Top. His wife, who 
followed half a dozen feet in the wake of her liege lord, 
was encased (that is the word) in a gown made of burlap, 
negligently tied at the waist with a piece of bale rope. 
Like her husband, she scouted any affectation of foot- 
gear. Behind her came Miss Melissa, red-haired and 
freckled-faced; shoeless, and with dress of the same piece 
of material that her mother wore. Then came young 
Ezra. He was the counterpart of the elder Throckmor- 
ton, minus the hat and whiskers. Next came the young- 
est Throckmorton, a wee youngster of 4 years, bearing 
the unmistakable form and features of the parent branch. 
Silently each walked on, and, arriving at the station, 
each member of the family took up his position on the 
company's fence, all in a row, like so many blackbirds; 
but with never a word. A few minutes later, a little fur- 
ther to the south, approaching the station over a winding 
trail, could be seen another family, almost identical in 
number and appearance with that of the Throckmortons. 
These were the Browns. They were not considered as 
good as the Throckmortons, for Miss Melissa had once 
been to Cincinnati to visit an uncle, and had returned 
with some ‘^store clothes" and a real milliner-made hat, 
none of which she had ever since donned. This may 
seem to be a small thing for a family like the Throck- 
mortons to put on airs about; but the Browns, after see- 
ing and feeling the fine clothes of Miss Melissa, readily 
granted the palm of superiority to their neighbors. 

The Browns sidled up to the vacant portion of the 
fence, each member of the family taking what appeared 


THE THROCKMORTONS. 


19 


to be an accustomed seat. The heads of each family now 
made a dive into their pockets, bringing forth a black- 
looking plug of tobacco. Biting off a piece, it was 
passed to the mother, from her to the daughter, then on 
down to the wee little one, all of whom took a chew, 
returning the remainder of the piece to the respective 
heads, who now for the first time seemed to recognize 
the presence of the other. 

“T reckon the train do be late tonight,'^ remarked 
Throckmorton. 

'T reckon,’’ sententiously replied Brown. 

The members of both families ‘"reckoned” clear down 
to the small boy. 

There was a hole in the platform, half a foot in diam- 
eter, and all of the Browns and Throckmortons started 
a fusillade of toibacco juice at the unoffending spot, and 
it was remarkable to see with what precision each and all 
struck the hole. Miss Melissa seemed to be the most 
expert, and smiled a little loftily at Amanda Brown, who 
looked somewhat abashed. 

‘T reckon it won’t rain tomorrow,” ventured Brown. 

‘T reckon,” patronizingly said Throckmorton; and 
there was the usual “reckonin’ ” all down the line again. 

This desultory conversation was kept up until the 
train arrived and departed. There were no passengers 
for Mountain Top; there seldom were. The United 
States mail pouch was thrown off to the agent, and after 
the departure of the train the Browns and the Throck- 
mortons filed up to the window to ask for mail. Each 
member of the two families would ask in turn for a let- 
ter, and, after receiving the customary “Nothing for you” 


20 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


from the agent and postmaster, would sadly shake his 
head and fall into Indian file. The retreat to the home 
was in the same order as they had arrived. 

'‘These people have been doing precisely the same as 
this every day since I have been here, and that is seven 
years,’’ said the agent to Jack. “They never have missed 
a day, and their salutation is the same now as it was when 
I first came here. They never get a letter, but it would 
be a matter of a ‘feud’ to the death if I deviated the least 
bit out of my customary way of replying to their ques- 
tions.” 

Jack Hamlin was indeed glad when he was relieved 
from duty as night operator at Mountain Top. Lazi- 
ness and shiftlessness seemed to be the pervading and 
besetting sin of the Throckmortons and Browns; and it 
did not look as if either family would ever rise above its 
present surroundings. 

Years had passed since Jack Hamlin was night oper- 
ator at Mountain Top. The episode had almost entirely 
been effaced from his memory. He had followed the 
telegraph business at various times, but had never con- 
fined himself wholly to it. Still, the dots and dashes had a 
great attraction for him, and he never lost an opportunity 
of mingling with the craft when he could do so. It was 
therefore a day to be long remembered when he learned 
that a number of his boyhood friends, who had been 
attending an annual convention of the “old-timers” at 
Omaha, were en route to the Pacific Coast. He speedily 
joined them at the Hotel del Monte, Monterey, Cal., the 
paradise of America, where 'they were the guests of Gen- 
eral John 1. Sabin, of San Francisco. Joyous greetings 
and a general good time ensued. 


THE THROCKMORTONS. 


21 


The friends were sitting on the veranda of the beauti- 
ful hotel one evening, listening to the strains of music 
from a string band in the banquet hall, when a peculiar 
voice attracted Jack’s attention. 

‘'Aw, it’s so deucedly awkward to travel without one’s 
valet, doncher know,” Jack heard, and, looking up, saw 
a tall form and two foppishly dressed men of middle age. 

One of the strangers had very red hair, and a coun- 
tenance that Jack thought he had seen before, but he 
could not place it. He felt sure he had met this man 
somewhere in the past, but the environments were vastly 
different. Going over to the hotel register, he saw 
scrawled the name “Ezra Throckmorton, London, Eng- 
land.” It all came back to him in an instant, and he 
recognized at once in the modern dude, who thought it 
“awkward to be without his valet,” the long-ago Ezra 
Throckmorton of Mountain Top, who complacently used 
to wear the “off side” of his father’s galluse's, and who 
was always ready to join in the chorus at all of the “reck- 
onin’ ” parties. 

What a change had taken place! Hamlin did not 
hesitate to introduce himself and to inquire after “Miss 
Melissa” and the Brown family. 

“Melissa! Why, she married a Count,” said Ezra, who 
was really glad to see Jack again. “She will be here 
today, but she will hardly thank you to refer to her 
youthful days. You see, we Throckmortons were always 
aristocrats, even when you knew us. The Browns knew 
it, too. One day the train stopped at Mountain Top and 
we were all there as usual. For a wonder, there was a 
passenger. It was a man from Pittsburgh, and he 
wanted to see father. It appears that he had learned of 


22 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


a coal deposit being on our land, and had come to pur- 
chase it. A fabulous sum was offered, but pa was true to 
his superior breeding and demanded twice the amount 
offered, which was finally paid; and in the short space of 
one month we had parted with our mountain home, and 
were living in Louisville. Pa and ma could not stand 
prosperity, and both died a year afterward. Ma always 
wanted to go back to her old home, 
sit on the fence, wait for the train, 
and ask for the mail; and pa was 
just the same — But here is Melis- 
sa! She is now Countess Agonzal. 

It is an unmistakable fact that 
^^fine feathers make fine birds,’’ and 
it would be impossible to recognize 
in the finely dressed Countess of to- 
day the little, barefooted, tobacco- 
chewing Melissa of years ago. And, 
just think! it was only a mineral de- 
posit that created this metamor- 
phosis. A pleasant evening was 
spent; and on his way to his Northern home 

Jack could not 
help thinking 
that ‘'Truth is 
stranger than 
fiction.” 








S UN LEE was the telegraph messenger at Bodie, CaL, 
when that mining camp was at the height of its 
prosperity. There were no boys in this camp who 
would take the position, and Sun Lee was engaged at a 
salary of $50 per month and perquisites, the latter con- 
sisting of the “digs,’^ which amounted to from $2 to $3 
a day, which was thought to be a fair salary for a messen- 
ger. 

It has been stated that our Mongolian brethren can- 
not learn the art of telegraphy, but this is not so. Sun 
Lee had been in the office but a short time when he mas- 
tered the alphabet, and night after night, when the line 
was idle, he would spend many hours in practicing, and 
soon he became proficient enough to notify the office 
at Virginia City that the Bodie operator ''has went out/" 
Of course Sun Lee was the admiration of Chinatown, 
and it was his great delight to be seen by his country- 
men sitting at the operating table handling the key when 
they came in to send a message. 

Nestling almost in the shadow of the great Sierras is 
the village of Genoa, and here Miss Minnie Lee pre- 
sided as operator. She was of a highly romantic temper- 
ament, and the peculiar style of literature that she con- 
stantly perused kept her imagination inflamed, so she 
was always ready for anything daring or dashing if it 
appealed to the romantic or sentimental side of her 
nature. She began to learn to telegraph about the time 


i' 


23 


24 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


that Sun Lee was taking his first instructions, and the 
twain became speedily well acquainted over the wire. 
The Celestial, too, had a poetic side to his nature, and 
he and Minnie soon became firm friends. As time went 
on, the students became more and more interested in 
each other, but the wily heathen had never disclosed the 
fact that he was ‘'foreign’’ born. He used to say, “My 
name is ‘S. Lee,’ and yours is ‘M. Lee.’ ” Of course, it 
was an easy matter for Sun Lee to keep his identity a 
secret, as the distance from Bodie to Genoa was over a 
hundred miles, the worst mountain stage road in the 
country, and there was no one at either of the towns suffi- 
ciently interested in the matter to disclose the true status 
of affairs to Miss Lee. 

One evening Minnie read in the columns of The 
Telegraph Age an account of a “marriage by wire,” and 
straightway called up Bodie and sent the item to Sun 
Lee, who remarked, “Why can’t you and I do likewise?” 
The young woman thought it would be so romantic, so 
she readily acquiesced, and Sun started on the prelimina- 
ries, engaging an itinerant preacher to tie the knot at 
the Bodie end of the line, while a qualified minister was 
to perform the same office for the young woman at 
Genoa. 

Sun Lee acted as operator, and the affair went 
off smoothly. Of course he did not kiss the bride or 
enjoy a wedding dinner, but repaired to his customary 
haunts in Chinatown on the night of his marriage. 

The officiating preacher at the Bodie end grave the 
particulars of the case to a Free Press reporter, and the 
following morning the whole story was told in print, and 
tjeing put on the wires, speedily became circulated all 


SUN LEE’S COURTSHIP. 


25 


over the Coast. Miss Minnie Lee (now Mrs. Sun Lee) 
had a big brother, who swore dire vengeance on his 
Oriental brother-in-law. The irate young man started 
for Bodie armed to the teeth. Sun Lee became ap- 
prised of this fact, and immediately decamped for parts 
unknown. It was discovered afterwards that there was 
some technicality about the ceremony which rendered it 
null and void, so Miss 


Lee resumed her maid- 
en name, and it is quite 
certain that she was for- 
ever cured of her ro- 
mantic folly. 

Nothing was ever 
heard of Sun Lee after this in tele- 
graph circles. The files of the San 
Francisco office fail to show that 
he ever applied for a position, but 
there is a suspicious- 
looking sign in China- 
town in that city which 
bears the following leg- 
end, that might perhaps 
throw some light on his 
whereabouts and pres- 
ent business pursuits : 



"TELEGRAPH LAUNDRY.’’ 

Washing and Ironing Done with Prompt- 
ness and Despatch. 

SUN LEE, Manager. 





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I T was a November evening in the year i86 — . The 
scene was in the beautiful Antelope Valley of Esme- 
ralda county, Nevada. The weather was a trifle 
chilly, just enough to make a campfire comfortable. 
Supper was over and pipes were drawn out, and the 
group of telegraph-line builders gathered around the 
campfire to while away an hour or two before turning in. 
This ''turning in’’ process was generally very simple, and 
consisted merely of rolling up one’s self in a blanket, 
and with a pine stump or tuft of grass for a pillow and 
the starry canopy of the beautiful Nevada sky for a cover- 
lid. The wearied climber would then enjoy a repose not 
to be found in kingly palaces. These two or three hours 
around the campfire were the most enjoyable of the day, 
and were spent in spinning yarns, with occasional songs 
from those so gifted. 

On this particular evening it was suggested that each 
of the motley crowd should relate some of his early ex- 
periences, and tell how it came to pass that he was so far 
away from home. The stories told were varied, interest- 
ing and thrilling, and all had a more or less humorous 
side to them. One severe-looking man stated that he 


27 


28 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


had been cashier in a great Eastern institution, but in an 
unfortunate hour he used some of the company’s funds 
to speculate with, and the venture proving unsuccessful, 
he Avas obliged to decamp. • 

A mild-looking young man then told how, in a fit of 
anger, he had seriously wounded a fellow workman and 
fled to escape the penalty. 

A ministerial-appearing old man was then pressed to 
tell his Story. He protested that his tale was so uninter- 
esting that it was not worth relating, but on further 
solicitation he stated that he had left his home in Ver- 
mont because he had not built a church. This statement 
elicited much merriment, but the story-teller went on to 
explain as follows: “You see, boys, I was once a 
preacher back in Vermont. My congregation gave me 
$5,000 to build a church with. I didn’t do it; I came to 
California instead.” 

Jim Murphy was the next speaker. He said that 
he had been for many years an operator and lineman at 

M , on the Ohio river. He had been addicted to the 

liquor habit, and he had come West simply to break 
away from old associations and boon companions, 
and the presence of the fiery liquor. His Sitory was a 
simple one, and it indicated that Jim was in earnest, 
and that he was endeavoring to escape from the evils of 
intemperance by avoiding temptation. He was consid- 
erably jeered at by the rest of the “gang,” who told him 
that if he was seeking to live a sober life he had come to 
a poor place. They recounted how the wine flowed on 
the other side of the mountains, and prophesied “Jim’s” 
early fall from his good intentions. “Jim” looked firm 
and determined, and the following day he asked for his 
“time,” stating that he was going for a long hunt. 


THE HERMIT OF TELEGRAPH HILL. 


29 


Jim Murphy was a man 50 years of age. He was 
very tall, with a strong, well-knit frame, and his powers 
of physical endurance were remarkable. Jim's adieu 
to his comrades was very brief, and with his blanket over 
his back, his cartridge belt buckled around his waist and 
his trusty rifle over his shoulder, he started up the 
mountains and was soon lost to view in the chaparral. 
Time passed, but Jim did not return. He ivas known 
as a sturdy hunter and familiar with all the phases of 
woodcraft, so his disappearance caused no alarm, or 
even ordinary comment. Meanwhile the line to xAnte- 
lope Valley was completed, and the erstwhile preacher, 
the whilom cashier and the quondam linemen were dis- 
charged and speedily engaged in other business. But 
Jim Murphy — what became of him? 

About twenty years later a Portuguese sheepherder, 
Pietro Sanchez by name, encamped one night with his 
flock in the mountain fastnesses of the high Sierras, near 
the 'headwaters of the Tuolumne river. Pietrt) was a 
simple fellow, well content with his lot, and, unlike the 
majority of Californians, he was not a goldseeker. The 
French have a proverb which says that ''only the un- 
expected happens," and curiously enough it was by rare 
accident that Pietro discovered very rich dirt near his 
camp. This news he conveyed to his friend and neigh- 
bor, a silver-haired old man, who had been his friend 
for many years. This old man was Jim Murphy, now 
familiarly known to the few mountaineers and pros- 
pectors as "Father" Murphy. Although more than 
three score and ten, he was still keen of eye, firm of foot 
and strong of limb. He had come to this wild and aP 


I 


30 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


most inaccessible spot after he left the telegraph service, 
and since that time he had not sought for or mixed with 
any so-called civilization. He passed his first winter 
in the mountains in one of the numerous caves, and the 
following spring he erected a log hut. This habitation 
was built on the banks of Lake Tenaya, a beautiful moun- 
tain lake situated at the base of Mount Dana, one of the 
Sierra’s loftiest and most rugged peaks. 

About seven years after Jim esta^blished himself 
at Lake Tenaya, Pietro Sanchez came into the neighbor- 
hood, and the two men, diametrically opposite in dis- 
position, soon became very warm friends. 

Jim still had a love for the ''dots and dashes,” and 
he constructed a line between his cabin and the Portu- 
guese’s shack, and undertook the task of teaching the 
sheepherder the mysteries of the Morse alphabet. It 
was a harder task than he had bargained for, and after 
six months of patient teaching the idea was given up and 
a code of interchangeable signals was arranged. 

"Father” Murphy was proverbial for his kindness and 
hospitality. He lived alone with his dogs, had a few 
sheep and cows; his raiment was entirely of his own 
manufacture, and would today be more expensive than 
the finest broadcloth. Hunting and fishing parties would 
come up frequently from the Yosemite Valley to spend 
a few days during the summer at Lake Tenaya. 
"Father” Murphy’s first request was that during their 
sojourn at his abode no liquor should be indulged in, 
and so well was this fact known, and so much was he held 
in reverence, that his request was always complied with 
good-naturedly. 


THE HERMIT OF TELEGRAPH HILL. 


31 


And so it happened that when Pietro Sanchez told 
him of his discovery of gold, so close 'by, and on his 
property, “Father” Murphy soliloquized thus: “Gold! 
gold! the root of all evil. Why should we let it be 
known? Better far to live our lives in the present peace- 
ful way than place ourselves in the way of temptation. 
Come, Pietro, let us say nothing about this find.” Pietro 
promised to keep silent, but in some unknown way the 
secret was discovered, and two weeks later there was 
a rush to the new “diggings.” A town sprang up as 
though by magic, and the once peaceful and quiet region 
of Mount Dana was broken by the noise and clamor of 
civilization. 

“Father” Murphy was sorely grieved, and his sense 
of propriety was greatly shocked, when he learned that 
whisky was the chief article of commerce at the new 
mining camp. He wanted to leave the haven of rest 
where he had been supremely happy for so long a time, 
and again seek another refuge, but where to go he did 
not know. 

The tempter came one day and “Father” Murphy 
fell. The old hermit’s possessions were found to abound 
with gold, and a marvelously fabulous sum was offered 
to him, and he accepted. A banquet was given to cele- 
brate the event, and “Father” Murphy, in an unfortunate 
moinent, looked on the wine when it was rosy. This 
was the beginning of the end. 

^ A few weeks later found “Father” Murphy in San 
Francisco, rolling it as high as the highest roller. He 
seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. He had 
discarded his frontierman’s garb and affected a cos- 
tume which had cost him a pretty penny at the most 


32 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


fashionable tailor’s in the city. His companions were 
of the most riotous and flashy kind, and his downfall 
came quickly. Attempting to cross a busy thorough- 
fare one day, in a state of semi-intoxication, he was 
knocked down by a passing vehicle, which rendered him 
insensible, and from the effects of which he died. He 
left no heirs excepting Pietro Sanchez, who was to be 
the sole legatee upon the fulfillment of one curious re- 
quest. 

When ‘"Father” Murphy disposed of his property he 
retained a section which he had named “Telegraph Hill.” 
This “hill” was an immense rock of granite, which rose 
out of the ground, piercing the sky to a height of 3,000 
feet. It was a beautiful stone, and it presented at a dis- 
tance all the appearance of a huge tombstone. “Father” 
Murphy had been so impressed with the location and 
appearance of the rock that he determined to make it his 
mausoleum, and he had been at work at odd times hew- 
ing out of its adamantine sides an aperture large enough 
to contain his body. It had been understood between 
him and his. Portuguese friend that this spot was to be 
his final resting-place, and Pietro had received full in- 
structions how to arrange for the placing of the body. 

The hermit had carved with his crude tools the fol- 
lowing inscription: “Telegraph Hill. Sacred to the mem- 
ory of James Murphy, telegraph operator and lineman. 
Born at Limerick, Ireland, A. D. 1801. Died . Be- 

ware of Temptation.” 

It was a labored effort, and many of the letters were 
“back-door,” but there was a pathos about the whole 
which was little short of sublime. 

Here is where the faithful Pietro placed the body 
of his friend. The ceremonies were simple, and the 


THE HERMIT OF TELEGRAPH HILL. 


33 


mourners few. The work of filling up the mouth of the 
tomb was done by an artist from San Francisco, and so 
cleverly was it executed that it would be impossible to 
detect where the opening in the rock was made. 

There have been many more costly mausoleums 
erected to departed loved ones, but nothing excels in 
grandeur of construction, height, or sublimity of loca* 
tion the last resting-place of James Murphy, ‘'the hermit 
of Telegraph Hill.^^ 

The mistake of “Father'^ Murphy's life was his flying 
from temptation instead of manfully holding his ground 
and fighting the battle to a finish. He fled and he had 
to fig'ht the battle all over again. His twenty years of 
hermit's life, instead of strengthening him, only rendered 
him easier prey to his besetting sin when temptation 
came. 







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T he advent of any new company, be it a telegraph 
or other enterprise, into a field already covered by 
a corporation pursuing the same line of business 
is apt to provoke much rivalry. It is not at all strange, 
therefore, that when the Postal extended their system 
to the Pacific coast that competition between that com- 
pany and the Western Union became rife. The pros- 
perity of a new company depends at first largely upon 
the personal popularity of the officials in charge, and as 
a general thing official positions were offered to those 
who might be able by their acquaintance, or ''pull,'' to 
command a goodly share of patronage. 

The Chinese are enthusiastic patrons of the telegraph. 
They like quick answers and frequently they will insist 
upon appending the words, "Answer immediately, right 
away, quick, soon," to their messages when they think 
that it will insure more promptness in reply. This class 
of business is well worthy of being solicited, but as the 
Chinese are a conservative lot they do not care to experi- 
ment, and they generally stick to old methods of doing 
business and to well-known companies, rather than to 
try something new. So it must be that something out 
of the usual order of things has to occur to enable an 
opposition company to obtain the business of an estab- 




35 


36 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


lis'hed concern. This vexed question solved itself in one 
of our flourishing Western cities and brought to the 
new company the coveted patronage, and the following 
shows how it happened: 

Ah Suey was a Celestial from the Flowery Kingdom. 
He was an unusually bright Chinaman, strong in his 
likes and dislikes, and he was considered quite a Sir 
Oracle in Chinatown. His business was that of janitor, 
and his hieroglyphics were appended to a Western Union 
voucher as such a personage. This was accompanied 
by an explanatory note from the manager that the hen 
tracks were the peculiar way in which Ah Suey had 
for signing his name. Ah Suey had an eye for business, 
and it is not to be wondered at that when the Postal 
opened its office that he applied for the janitorship, stat- 
ing as reference that he was performing a similar serv- 
ice with the other company, and he wished to hold both 
places. He was readily engaged, but tlie Western 
LTnion manager thought that it was hardly right that 
Suey should work for both companies, and accordingly 
dismissed him. This action greatly incensed Ah Suey, 
and he determined on dire vengeance. He went about 
for a few days apparently in a brown study, but one 
morning he seemed to have discovered what he was 
looking for in the realms of thought. He had a most 
gorgeous Chinese sign painted in gold and black, and’ 
bordered with red, altogether making a striking effect. 
Ah Suey confidentially informed the Postal manager 
that the legend on the sign read : ''This is the Chinaman's 
telegraph office.'’ He asked permission to place the sign 
in the window, a request which was readily granted. 

For several days afterward there was quite a heavy 
business done at the Postal, received from its Chinese 


CARRYING THE WAR INTO CHINA. 


37 


patrons. So decided and complete had the change be- 
come that it seemed it was not possible that the Chinese 
sign could have effected so much. Suey was in high 



glee, and he would chatter volubly in his monosyllabic 
language to his countrymen as they dropped in to file 
their messages. Suey evidently had a secret, and one 



38 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


which he was not willing to impart. The story came out 
a few days later, however, and it showed how it was 
possible to carry telegraphic war into Chinatown. 

On one of the principal streets in Chinatown is a 
bulletin board which conveys to the Chinese reader die 
currrent news of the day. This board is used also as a 
sort of an advertising medium, and Twin Wo Bing and 
Whoop La Sing will there inform their friends and 
countrymen that they have just received by the latest 
steamer, direct from China, a fresh suppiy of rice or 
opium, or whatever the invoice might be. Advertise- 
ments of the new play at the Chinese theater and news 
from the China- Japan war were inscribed on this bulle- 
tin board also. The corner was the most interesting in 
the Chinese quarter, and anything that was put on the 
board was regarded by the Chinese as strictly reliable. 
This was, of course, known to Ah Suey. The wily 
heathen had taken advantage of it, and as he did not 
care for expense when it came to being avenged upon 
a supposed enemy, he had emblazoned in the most con- 
spicuous place on the board a card which was interpreted 
by him as follows: 

“Notice. — To all my friends. When you want to 
telglap, you no go to Western Union, no good. You 
go to Postal, velly nice bossee man there, heap likee 
the Chinaman. (Signed), Ah Suey.’^ 



CHAPTER L 



Choice Flowers in Barren SoiL 

A DISAPPOINTED pros- 
pector once remarked : 

“When God created the world 
He had a quantity of refuse 
dirt, lava and rocks left over, 
which He dumped down on 
the eastern side of the Sierra 
Nevada Mountains, and man 

called it 'Nevada/ ’’ This aspersion is hardly fair, for 
the truly rich State of Nevada is not only rich in its 
mineral wealth, but in its numerous and beautiful 
valleys of arable land, which require but the 
hand of the irrigator to produce any product under the 
sun. There are arid spots, though, some indeed so 
barren and waste that not even a snake or horned toad 
can be found in their confines. There are many places 
where rain or snow never falls, and where the sun shines 
365 days in the year, never being interrupted even for 
a moment. 


Such a place was Whisky Flat. This flat was ten 
miles wide, lying between the Tiobabe Mountains in the 
east, and the Del Norte Mountains in the west and 
north. Here the alkali and saleratus gleamed like snow 
in the sun’s bright rays, and was doubly exasperating to 


39 


40 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


the thirsty traveler. The stage road from Red Horse 
to Mammoth City cut across this desert, the trail look- 
ing like a dark ribhon on a bed of snow, to the observer 
on the neighboring hill. 

At the foot of the Tiobabe Mountains was a low, 
thatched cottage, the only dwelling in this wild waste. 
A few hundred feet back of this cottage was a small 
spring, which came with a gush out of the side of the 
mountain and found its way into a little reservoir. 

This fountain of life was the means that rendered 
habitable the solitary dwelling. Every drop of the sup- 
ply not used by the inhabitants of this remote place was 
utilized in irrigating a little garden of some two or three 
acres, and right well did nature respond to the call upon 
her resources. There were no ''seasons’’ here, for each 
day was a facsimile of the day previous. The year 
around the grass grew in this little oasis and the weary 
stage traveler was always glad to get to this haven, for 
it was generally known that here would be found a good 
meal, which is a luxury that even a Nevada traveler can 
enjoy. 

The inhabitants of this lonely place were three in 
number — a mother, daughter and son. The mother was 
a frail little woman, with a remarkably sweet face and 
voice. She gave evidence of having seen better days, 
and one need but to talk with her a moment to be aware 
that Mrs. Wythe was a lady of culture and refinement; 
and the next thought uppermost in one’s mind was, what 
was she doing in such a strange place? Her daughter, 
Edith, was a shy, blushing girl of seventeen summers, 
possessing her mother’s voice and manner, with an added 
earnestness. Dexter was a bright lad of fifteen years. 


WHISKY FLAT. 


41 


full of mirth and good humor, and intensely devoted to 
his mother and sister. Both children assisted in the 
gardening, and made it possible for their little mother 
to eke out an existence in that desert home. 


CHAPTER IL 

Whisky Flat^ a Telegraph Station^ 

The lonely telegraph wire which connected Bodie 
with Candelaria was in trouble. This was a serious mat- 
ter, alike to the telegraph company and its patrons, for 
mining stocks were on the boom, and every five minutes 
financially made or ruined some speculator, and so it 
was that when the wire was down, all hands and the 
cook turned out to repair the trouble. The line ran by 
the little stage station known as Whisky Flat, then 
across the desert, turning east from the Tiobaba range 
to Marietta and other well-known mining towns, now 
deserted. 

The day was unusually hot as Jack Hamlin thun- 
dered down the mountainside leading to the “Flat.” 
He was mounted on a big American horse, which in 
earlier days had been used in the pony-express service, 
and whose instinct was to “get there” as quickly as 
possible. The little station was not visible to Jack 
until he was right upon it, on account of a sharp turn 
in the road. It was a pretty picture that greeted his 
eye. The cottage had just received a new coat of white- 
wash, and vied in color with the snow-white alkali desert 
that lay a little to the east of it. Honeysuckles and 
creeping vines covered the abode, and quite a number of 
old-fashioned roses and other flowers bloomed in the 


42 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


surrounding garden. A girl, barefoot and dressed in 
a loose-fitting calico gown, was sitting near the spring, 
but the noise of the approaching horse and the sudden 
appearance of Jack startled her, and with a nimble and 
graceful bound she cleared the fence and disappeared 
inside the cottage, out of which issued little Dexter. 

“Ki, yi!’’ said the boy. ''Where are you bound for? 
That's a mighty fine horse you have. He beats my old 
s-kate all hollow. You had better come in and rest, and 
ril take care of the horse, if you will let me ride him 
for ten minutes." 

The boy's hospitality was accepted, and in a few min- 
utes Jack was in the modest parlor, where he introduced 
himself to Mrs. Wythe, stating that his errand in that 
vicinity was to repair the telegraph wire. He was re- 
ceived with every evidence of hospitality, and soon sat 
down to a most homelike meal. Jack's quick eye took in 
the surroundings, and he marveled to see so many evi- 
dences of refinement as were apparent on every side. 
Presently a youthful form entered the room, and Jack 
recognized the willowly figure which he had seen leap 
the fence so gracefully. 

"My daug'hter, Edith," said Mrs. Wythe, and the 
girl blushed like a peony. She had changed her dress, 
and was now attired in a simple but becoming gown. 
Jack smiled a little at the thought of the graceful leap 
he had seen her take a little while before, but he was 
lost in admiration of her sweet face and simple, artless 
manner. Her face was one that betokened rare intelli- 
gence. Her deep violet eyes were full of expression, 
and were an index to her character. As she flitted 
hither and thither arranging the table for dinner. Jack 
could not help thinking that the young lady's face and 


WHISKY FLAT. 


43 


form would have set the city belles wild with envy. 
Her hair had that indescribable hue that the Parisian 
woman is trying so hard to counterfeit, and which re- 
sembles very closely the color of a new twenty-dollar 
gold piece. Her step was light and her hands small and 
shapely. Her face was slightly freckled, but this seemed 
to add to, rather than to detract from, her beauty. 

To Jack^s surprise, she spread a white linen cover 
over the homely table and placed a bouquet of sweet- 
brier roses in the center. A brisk conversation was 
kept up during the progress of the meal, and Jack 
learned that Miss Edith had never seen a steamboat, 
locomotive, nor had ever been away from Whisky Flat 
since she was two years old. Notwithstanding this, she 
was on familiar terms with the poets, could speak 
French quite fluently, and was a comparatively good 
Greek and Latin scholar. Her aptitude for learning 
was great, and she seemed to absorb all book lore. 
The girl smiled deprecatingly as her mother recounted 
her accomplishments, and it was pleasant to observe her 
modest and unaffected demeanor. There seemed to be 
a great bond of sympathy between mother and daughter. 

Hamlin related how he was out repairing the line, 
and said that he wished there was a test office at Whisky 
Flat, for it would be a great help in similar cases of line 
trouble. He also said that there was no reason why 
Miss Edith could not learn enough of the art to be of 
material assistance; and if she were so disposed he would 
then and there teach her the alphabet, and if she had 
memorized it by the time he returned from repairing the 
trouble, he would leave her his pocket relay and teach 
her how to make the letters. Edith was aglow with 


44 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


pleasure, and Mrs. Wythe was equally pleased; and even 
little Dexter came in and asked to be enrolled as a pupil. 

After dinner was over, Jack mounted his horse, which 
had been carefully groomed and fed by the attentive 
Dexter, and started on his wearisome ride across the 
hot desert. 


CHAPTER IIL 


Rencontre With Indians* 

A person traveling along the road or in the woods 
in an Indian country often meets a party of redskins; 
but the meeting partakes 'largely of an apparition, for 
the Indians are never seen until the traveler comes face 
to face with them. 

Just as the desert had been crossed and Jack was 
urging his horse forward, he came upon such an appari- 
tion. They were four in number; villainous-looking, 
and all mounted ; but there were only three horses, neces- 
sitating one of the number, a squaw, to ride behind her 
lord and master. There were many ejaculations as the 
party beheld Jack, who reined up as he approached 
them. 

“Ug^h/' said one ugly-looking old buck; 'Tobac, 
tobac.’’ ''Yes,’’ said Jack, "here is some tobac,” tossing 
the old fellow a cigar. "Me tobac,” squealed the next 
one, and the next, and each was treated to a cigar. 
"Me tobac, ME tobac,” yelled the squaw, and Jack 
tossed her a weed, which she caught up with much dex- 
terity. Matches were next demanded and were readily 
furnished, and then a cry was made for "firewater,” but 
this demand was refused. "Gun, gun, lemme seeum 
gun,” cried the leader, pointing to Jack’s rifle which 


WHISKY FLAT. 


45 


was slung over his shoulder. “Come and take it,” said 
Jack, bringing the piece to his shoulder in an instant 
and looking down its long barrel at the savage. “Ugh,” 
cried the Indians, as they contemptuously filed by, none 
of them deigning to look behind as Jack kept them 
covered until they were well on their way. 

A little further on it was discovered where the Indians 
had evidently camped, and where they had cut and 
stolen about a hundred feet of wire. Repairs were 



quickly made, and the joyful fact was immediately made 
known to the different offices. 

Two days later Jack reappeared at the Wythe cot- 
tage on his return to Bodie. He learned that the Indian 
party which he had met were some renegades who had 
been disowned by their tribe and now wandered from 
place to place, making their home wherever night over- 
took them. Mrs. Wythe related that she had fed the 


46 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


Indians and their horses, in consideration for which 
they had left with the good lady the wire which they 
had stolen. Mrs. Wythe was a friend of the Indian, 
and during the whole of her fifteen years’ residence in 
this wild and uninhabited place she had never been 
molested. Her house was full of peace offerings and 
presents from Indians who had been lost in the desert 
and found their way to her humble but hospitable cottage. 

Edith beamed with delight on Jack’s arrival, and 
stie joyfully announced that she had mastered the alpha- 
bet and was ready for further instructions. The main 
line was speedily cut in, and an embryo telegraph office 
was established at Whisky Flat, and the fact was wired 
at once to the Tariff Bureau. 

'T never liked the name of Whisky Plat,” said Mrs. 
Wythe, ‘"and I wanted to call our home Wythe’s Station, 
but the stage-drivers and travelers would never agree 
to this, and I suppose that we will have to go down in 
history as being residents of Whisky Flat.” 

By this time Hamlin had evinced a deep interest in 
the family, and he strove by dint of delicate questioning 
to gather a little family history. He gleaned that Mrs. 
Wythe was one of a large family which had been re- 
duced to poverty by the War of the Rebellion, and, 
when Dick Wythe came home from California with re- 
puted great wealth, she was urged to marry him. They 
came to California, but an unfortunate speculation in 
mining stocks exhausted all of his money. Fifteen 
years ago -they had come to Whisky Flat to live, as 
her husband had discovered gold near by. The mine, 
however, had proven a failure, and he had gone away 
prospecting, leaving her with the two children, to do the 
best she could. She fortunately interested the stage 


WHISKY FLAT. 


47 


company in her case, and Whisky Flat became an eating 
statiton, and she was thus able to support herself and 
her little family. But in all these years she had never 
been away from her home, and her children had only 
such advantages of education as she could give them. 
She had been a governess in Baltimore in her early life, 
and her books were her chief comfort until the children 
grew up, and then it became her greatest delight to 
impart to the little ones the knowledge Which she had 
acquired. And so it happened that few young ladies 
with an hundredfold the advantages that Edith Wythe 
possessed were her equals in the accomplishments of 
the times. 

An old-fashioned melodeon, a relic of Mrs. Wythe^s 
girlhood days, occupied a space in the cosy parlor; and 
the balance of the evening was spent in music, both 
mother and children singing with much sweetness. After 
the stirring melodies of the ante-bellum days were ren- 
dered, the gospel hymn-book was opened and they sang 
‘'Oh, Where Is My Wandering Boy Tonight?^’ The 
singing closed with "Abide With Me,’' and the follow- 
ing morning Jack bade the little group an affectionate 
good-bye. 


CHAPTER IV* 


Edith Becomes an Operator* 

A few months had passed by. The mining excite- 
ment at Bodie was at its height, and Jack Hamlin had 
almo-st forgotten his adventure at Whisky Flat, when 
one night, after everybody on the line had said "G. N.,” 
there came a call over the wire. It was a timid, fright- 
ened call. "Bo” "Bo” "Bo” ‘‘Wf”— "Bo” "Bo” "Wf,” 


48 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


it said. “Hello/’ said Jack, “that must be little Edith 
at Whisky Flat.” He answered the call, but for a few 
minutes it seemed an effort for the operator at “Wf” to 
write; but this, however, soon disappeared, and Edith 
told Jack that she had been practicing constantly for 
the past six months, that she was up with the lark and 
never retired until the last office had said “good-night,” 
and she was able to copy everything that came over 
the wire, even to the “stock markets,” which was con- 
sidered quite a feat. 

Life in a mining camp is very uncertain at best, and 
as the diamond drill on the i,200-foot level of Juniper 
cut into horse porphyry when it was deemed certain 
that there was a 27-foot of gold-bearing ore instead, 
there was a great drop in the stock market, and this, 
together with the inability to show any good prospects 
in the Oro and Mono mines, settled the fate of Bodie. 
Jack decided that he could not hang his fortunes to a 
“dead horse,” and determined to seek newer fields. 
Before going, Edith requested him to try and secure her 
a position as operator somewhere. She said that with 
the decadence of Bodie the stage which passed Whisky 
Flat was to be abandoned, and, that being the family’s 
sole means of sustenance, she found that she must now 
utilize her knowledge of telegraphy. 

It was a memorable day in the lives of this little 
family when Edith prepared to start for Gold Mountain, 
where Jack Hamlin had secured for her a position as day 
operator. She was to “travel,” and that was of itself 
a great event. Then “she was going to be among peo- 
ple.” To be sure. Gold Mountain was not a large place, 
but it had a railroad, four stores, a town hall, and it 


WHISKY FLAT. 


49 


was only a few hours' ride from Carson City, where 
Jim Farrell worked, whose sending was the fastest on 
the line. 

It would be hard to picture Edith's impression of 
her first few weeks in ‘^civilization.'^ Following out her 
mother's instructions, she soon discarded her home-made 
frock for a smart-looking gown made by a S'an Fran- 
cisco modiste. Other additions to her wardrobe made 
a complete metamorphosis in her appearance, and it 
would have been difficult to recognize the demure and 
shy miss of Whisky Flat in the winsome and comely 
operator of Gold Mountain. It was impossible to get 
a letter to Whisky Flat, now that the stage-coach had 
been abandoned, and the nearest postoffice was twenty- 
four miles away, but the wire from Gold Mountain to 
Edith's old home was connected every evening, and 
she and Dexter talked away into the night, for the latter 
had also become a good operator. 

Edith Wythe's pleasant face and frank, open man- 
ner soon won for her many friends and admirers. There 
was nothing but sunshine in the young woman's mind, 
and her sunny nature radiated and reflected itself on all 
who came near her. 


CHAPTER V. 


Shoals* 

Percy Billings was the railroad agent at Gold Moun- 
tain. He was handsome, but rather rakish-looking, and 
it was whispered that he used to deal faro as a business, 
in San Francisco; but the report given by the Fidelity 
Trust Company, who were on his bonds to the railroad 


4 


50 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


company, would indicate that he was of exceptionally 
good character and that his previous life had been with- 
out a blemish. 

Edith's fair face and graceful figure attracted Billings, 
and he soon became very much enamored. To the sim- 
ple, inexperienced mind of Edith, Percy was perfec- 
tion and nobility personified; and she willingly placed 
her heart in his keeping. After a short engagement, 
Billings obtained her consent to a secret marriage. 
Edith acquiesced only after a struggle with herself, 
and on the assurance of her lover that it was for the 
best. Matters continued in this way for several months, 
Billings displaying much attention and devotion, and 
Edith lavishing upon him all the affections of her fresh 
young heart. One day a letter came to Billings, post- 
marked San Francisco, the address being in a lady's 
handwriting. He seemed to be very much perturbed 
upon reading the letter, and announced to the startled 
Edith that he was suddenly called to San Francisco 
and would be absent for a couple of weeks; but more 
than this he would not say. He left Gold Mountain 
that evening, never to return. 

Edith waited for a week without hearing from him, 
Earning an excuse for him in her own mind, that he was 
"Too busy" or that ‘The mails were irregular"; but as 
weeks grew into months, she began to have many mis- 
givings, and finally determined to go to San Francisco 
and find her recreant husband. Accordingly, a few days 
later she landed in California's metropolis. She had 
once, accidentally, ovetheard her husband tell a friend 

that he was well known at the hotel, and it was 

thither that Edith bent her way. 

This was a new and disagreeable experience to this 
voung woman, who could not understand why the clerk 


WHISKY FLAT. 


51 


looked at 'her so peculiarly; and why even the employes 
of the hotel acted familiarly with her. When she made 
inquiries for Percy Billing’s, the clerk’s manner became 
even more offensive. She was told that he was stopping 
at the hotel, and would be in very soon ; and a few hours 
later a meeting took place between Edith and her hus- 
band. He was furious to find her in San Francisco, and 
told her to return to her home; that he did not want 
to see her any more; and that he would absolutely have 
nothing to do with her. Surprised, ashamed, and mor- 
tified beyond measure, Edith repaired to her room, where 
she spent an hour in writing a letter, which she posted; 
and then, going down to the Wharf, purchased a ticket to 
Oakland. 

Just as the ferry-boat Piedmont was passing Goat 
Island on her Way to Oakland, a little figure jumped 
from the side of the boat into the bay. The alarm was 
immediately given, the big steamer stopped, and a boat 
was put out into the dark water; but, owing to the in- 
tense darkness, the person could ndt be rescued. Several 
days later some fishermen discovered the body of a young 
womian near Oakland pier, and from articles in her 
pocketbook it was proven to be the remains of Edith 
Wythe. 

CHAPTER VL 
Retribution* 

A year later a party of gay San Franciscans was 
spending the summer months at one of the lakes in the 
high Sierras. Among the party was Percy Billings, gay 
and blase as of old. The fate of Edith Wythe never 
seemed to have worried or made an impression upon 
him, and he had long since stopped giving her a thought. 
He was now pursuing his former vocation, that of a pro- 
fessional gambler, for a livelihood. 


52 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


The lake near by Which he was camping was one of 
those remarkable bodies of water found in the moun- 
tains of California. It was fed by the snow from the 
Sierra Nevadas, having several inlets, but no visible out- 
let. Its depth was very great, and the water was so pure and 
its specific gravity so small, that it was impossible to 
swim in it. A rowboat would sink to its gunwale with 
very little weight, and the Indi'ans were afraid to ven- 
ture on this lake in their canoes, believing it possessed 
of the devil. There was a strong suction, which indi- 
cated that there must be a subterranean outlet at the 
bottom of the lake. 

A quiet, handsome-looking boy was about to take 
a boat out for a row one afternoon, when Percy Billings 
came strolling along. ^'Your name is Billings?’' in- 
quired the boy. ''Right you are,” was the reply. Bill- 
ings was invited to take a seat in the boat, which he 
accepted, and very soon the twain were a quarter of a 
mile out on the bosom of the lake. 

It will never be knowm what was said by the boy to 
the man, nor just how it occurred, but the spectators on 
the shore heard cries from the boat and saw both men 
rise to their feet and clinch, upsetting the boat, and 
Percy Billings and Dexter Wythe went to the bottom of 
the lake. 


CHAPTER Vn. 

Desolation* 

The lonely wire passing Whisky Flat still hangs to 
the tamarack poles, but now no current is vibrating its 
metallic breast; its day of usefulness is over. The min- 
ing towns that it once connected have passed into de- 


WHISKY FLAT. 


53 


cadence. The spring still bubbles forth from the moun- 
tainside, refreshing the little garden as of old. An old 
man sits alone in the doorway. It is old Dick Wythe. 
He has returned from his long wanderings, and come 
home to rest and pass the remainder of his days at the 
old home where his wife and children spent so many 
happy years; but he has come too late. Yonder on the 
side of the hill, a short distance from the spring, can be 
seen two little mounds of earth, and there lie Mrs. Wythe 
and her daughter Edith. Dexter's body was never 
found. 

It is wonderful what a little circumstance will change 
our destinies. It is passing strange that isuch a little 
occurrence as a half a dozen renegade Indians stealing a 
few feet of telegraph wire should convert this once 
happy home into such a scene of desolation. 



















LOST OPPORTUNITIES. 


1 AM not given to grieving very much over what 
might have been/' remarked a genial veteran of the 
key, '‘but were it not for a runaway stage-coach I should 
have been a millionaire twice over. I will tell you how it 
occurred: 

“I was the operator at Treasure Hill, Nevada, a very 
prosperous mining camp in the early '70s, and you can 
just bet that things were booming in those days. I 
was also express agent, and my salary amounted to 
$500 per month. Money in those times was no good 
excepting to buy whisky and gamble with, and of course 
we used to roll things high. I made lots of money spec- 
ulating in mining stocks, and, being on the inside, I was 
generally pretty lucky. It was at a time when fortunes 
were made and lost, sometimes in a day, and so it was 
in my own case. Poles were poles in that country, for 
there was not a vestige of timber in a radius of 100 
miles of Treasure Hill, and our telegraph line was run 
on the tops of the sagebrush over half the distance from 
Carson. The wire always worked well, for it seldom 
rained or snowed here, and the ground was generally 
warm and dry. The only trouble that we experienced 
was in case of loose stock running afoul the wire, break- 
ing and dragging it for a long distance, but such in- 
stances were rare, and it seems a fatal coincidence that 
an occurrrence of this kind has kept me a poor man all 
these years. Strikes and rumors of strikes had been 
rampant on the Comstock lode, and each stock took its 
turn at going up anid coming down frequently, like a 
skyrocket. The miners at the several points kept each 
other posted as well as they could of any expected rise; 


55 


56 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


and every one, women included, speculated as far as 
their means allowed them in the stock market. 

One evening about lo P. M., a horseman drew up 
in our camp and was presently closeted with some of 
our wealthy mining men. An hour later they came to 
my office, and after whispered injunctions to me to -keep it 
under the table,’ I was informed that a big strike had 
been made in Crown Point, and it was expected to go 
Up into the triple figures right away. Crown Point was 
selling for $4 a share at the closing afternoon sales, and, 
after scanning my balance of cash on deposit in my San 
Francisco broker’s hands, I ascertained that I could pur- 
chase 1,000 shares, and this I determined to do at once. 

My friends wrote out their orders to buy Crown Point 
stock, but, alas! I found that the wire was open. Not a 
bit of current could I detect, and I informed them 
of this fact. Of course I could not tell where the trouble 
was nor how soon it would be repaired, so the miners 
determined to start one of their number out to Diamond 
Springs, the next office, some forty miles away, but I 
decided to wait and send my order when the line came 
up. This was my fatal mistake. My friends managed 
to reach Diamond Springs and get their orders sent in 
long before the opening of the Board the following 
morning, and they paid from $3 to $4 per share for the 
stock. I waited patiently all the following day, and 
about 4 o’clock in the afternoon the line came ‘O. K.,’ 
and the first question I asked was for the closing price 
of Crown Point. There has been great excitement in 
Crown Point,’ said the Virginia City operator, ‘and it 
closed at $450 a share.’ My heart almost stopped beat- 
ing at this, for it was out of the question for me to 


LOST OPPORTUNITIES. 


57 


huy at this figure. The excitement continued, the stock 
jumping up $200 and $300 each day, and at the end of 
the week it had reached $2,000 a share. All of my 
friends sold out at this figure, and I was the most dis- 
appointed man in Nevada. If I had gotten my order 
in for 1,000 shares, and realized $2,000 a share, I would 
have been twice a millionaire. This seemed to be the 
turning-point in my career, for after this I never seemed 
to have any more luck, and little by little my savings 
went, until I was left a poor man. The cause of the 
wire trouble was a runaway stage-coach, which tore the 
wire down for a long distance, breaking it in many 
places. I am more than convinced that Shakespeare was 
right when he wrote: ‘There is a tide in the affairs of 
men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.’ ” 
And the veteran resumed his pipe and soliloquies. 
















to a class which is rapidly passing away, but who were of 
much service in cases of emergency. 


Few operators had brighter prospects than had Hank 
Cowan. His reputation as an operator was known all 
over the country. His ‘^copy’’ was like a picture; he 
could take anything, and his wrist was like steel when he 
sent the overland report. “Hank’’ was a handsome fel- 
low; his only defect being a bad cut on his eyelid, which 
gave him rather a sinister expression, really en- 
tirely foreign to his nature. He possessed the kind- 
est of hearts, and never forgot a favor shown him. His 
only fault was in his fondness for red liquor, and on 
this account he was always getting into endless scrapes. 
Many and many a time did he bravely try to overcome 
this evil habit, onlv to succumb after two or three 
months of excellent behavior, when off he would go 
again to hunt up another position, only to repeat the 
same occurrence in the new field. There were many 
stories told about “Hank,” but they were all good na- 
tured, for he was a man who would do no one a willful 
wrong. 

59 


60 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


There is an office in the West, where, on payday, the 
manager exacted the operators to stand in line, and he 
would go up and down the line handing the men their 
wages. '‘Hank,’’ in his peregrinations, arrived at this 
place and put in two nights’ work, which was a fact that 
seemed to have been overlooked by the manager. 
Cowan stood in line with the rest, till he saw that he was 
•going to be neglected; then he sang out in his clear 
tenor voice, to the tune of a beautiful hymn : 

"Manager, manager, 

Hear my humble cry; 

While on others thou art smiling. 

Do not pass me by.” 

The plaintive air and words won the heart of the man- 
ager, who settled up with him. 

It was somewhere about ’77 that "Hank” worked 
for the "At & P.” in Chicago. He could always get 
along with that company better than with any other, 
for they were more lenient with his shortcomings. He 
secured board in a very nice part of the city, and was 
doing very well until one day he met some boon com- 
panions and became a participant in their riotousness. 
About midnight he essayed to find his way home, 
but in his boozy condition "all houses looked alike to 
him.” A good-natured policeman who knew him came 
along and undertook to escort him home. Presently 
they arrived at his abode, and the policeman took him 
up to the head of the stairs. "Whasher-name?” said 
Hank, who did not recognize his friend. "Never mind,” 
replied the guardian of the night, "go in and go to bed 
now.” "Noshir, I want (hie) to know (hie) your (hie) 
name (hie, hie).” "Well, my name is Paul,” said the 


1 


•TASS ME NOT." 


61 


watchman. 'Taul, Paul?’' said '‘Hank/^ retrospectively, 
as if trying to recall some image of the past. 'T shay, 
Paul (hie), did you (hie) ever get a (hie) answer (hie) to 
that long letter (hie) that you wrote (hie) to the Ephe- 
sians (hie, hie)?” 

History has not reeorded the polieeman’s reply, but 
these were Hank’s last days in Chieago. 

A week later a postal eard was reeeived from Albu- 
querque, New Mexico, in Hank’s well-known handwrit- 
ing, reading: 

“The bulls on the Cincinnati wire distress me. I 
think that I will quit. Please accept my resignation. 
Hank Cowan.” 



' ii 

I! 

























WELCOMING THE PRESIDENT. 


IRGINIA CITY, Nevada, was a bustling town in the 



V year 1879. The amount of telegraph business done 
at this point was large, and the operators employed 
were the flower of the profession. There were not many 
social inducements to keep men there, but there was a 
spirit of freedom and bonhomme always manifested by 
the residents of this gold region that could never be 
experienced elsewhere. Every opportunity was taken to 
break the monotony of life in this mining camp, and 
generally the calendar was scanned in advance to see 
what would be the next day to celebrate. It was no 
wonder then that the boys in the Western Union office 
hailed with delight the visit to Virginia City of President 
Wm. Orton, of the Western Union Telegraph Company, 
accompanied by General Anson Stager. Mr. Orton had 
been in failing health for some time, and the trip to the 
Pacific coast was taken with a view to recuperation. The 
news had been heralded from Omaha, Cheyenne amd 
Salt Lake City, giving the itinerary of the party and 
indicating that the several managers along the route 
were doing all in their power to entertain the noted visi- 


tors. 


Eugene H. Sherwood, well known to the profession 
all over the country as ‘'Sherry,'' was at that time an 
operator in the Virginia City office. He was full of 
pranks, and always ready for a lark, so he detenmined 
to have a little fun on the occasion of the contemplated 
visit. Yes, he had made up his mind to receive the 
party in true Western style, and in a way that they 
would not soon forget. He acquainted the worthy man- 
ager of the coming event, and requested that $20 bf 


63 


64 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


donated for the purpose of ''fixing up’’ the office. The 
modest demand was readily complied with, and "Sherry” 
was appointed a committee of the whole to decorate the 
office according to his own best judgment. Here was 
a chance for a first-class frolic, and "Sherry” was quick 
to improve it. 

A troupe of British blondes and high kickers had 
visited the city recently, and left as a reminder their 
Venus-like pictures and forms in the usual grotesque 
attitudes on the dead walls throughout the city. Accom- 
panied by a sable companion, "Sherry” carefully took 
down all of this paper, and a few hours later these fairy 
figures were gracing the walls of the operating-room. 
Next, Captain Sam, of the Piute tribe, was interviewed, 
and he soon made a bargain to produce seven braves, 
squaws and papooses, together with himself, at six bits 
a head, all to be on hand the following morning at the 
office, there to welcome the "great father of the wire- 
graph.” A nuntber of Indian dogs and curios to be in 
this retinue were included in the contract with Captain 
Sam. Sundry guns and small arms and old boots, with 
a number of miners’ picks, shovels, and other imple- 
ments, were borrowed from the Miners’ Union, to lend a 
business effect to the adornments of the office. So quiet- 
ly and effectively was this Work planned and executed 
that the said worthy manager had no suspicion of what 
was going on. Mr. Orton and party arrived about lo A. 
M., and, accompanied by General Stager and Superin- 
tendent Frank Bell, of the Nevad- district, repaired at 
once to the telegraph office. Superintendent Bell was 
particularly proud of this office; not so much, however, 
for elaborateness of its furnishings (which did not exist). 


WELCOMING THE PRESIDENT. 


65 


as for the great revenue that the company derived from 
it. It was, therefore, with an important air that he led 
the pro'cession up the stairway and into the operating- 
room. He was the first to enter, and his eye took in 
at a glance the situation, and he was for a moment 
speechless with consternation and surprise. General 
Stager had a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he viewed 
the startling effect of ^'Sherry’s” work. Turning to Mr. 
Orton, he smilingly whispered a few words, and both of 
the gentlemen entered immediately into the spirit of 
the fun. President Orton was introduced to all of the 
operators, and to each he spoke pleasantly for a few 
moments, inquiring where each belonged and their pros- 
pects, present and future. His kindly face and pleasant 
talk won the hearts of all the employes, and it is possible 
that ‘^Sherry’’ had some little compunction for the un- 
usual mode of reception. Captain Sam and his braves 
were in turn introduced to the guests, and in true Indian 
fashion asked for 'Tour bitta’’ to remember him by. 
Each of the Indians received a silver piece, and the 
guests took their departure, thus ending a very pleasant 
episode. "Sherry’’ greatly enjoyed the result of his "en- 
tertainment,” but he could see from the look of chagrin 
on the face of Superintendent Bell that a day of reckon- 
ing was bound to come. Messrs. Orton and Stager left 
for San Francisco the same evening, and all of the em- 
ployes that could do so went down to the depot to bid 
them good-bye. Mr. Bell took the party to California, 
and on his return interviewed the doughty "Sherry,” 
who was prepared for the worst. 

"I had intended to discharge you,” said Mr. Bell, 
"and I told Mr. Orton so, but he would not listen to it. 


5 



66 


THE PRESIDENT’S RECEPTION IN VIRGINIA CITY OFFICE. 






WELCOMING THE PRESIDENT. 


67 


and insisted that he enjoyed his recep^tion at the Virginia 
City office more than at any other point on the route; 
and that, instead oif discharging the promoter of the en- 
tertainment, I should grant him thirty days’ vacation 
with full pay.” 

This was a happy and unlooked-for denouement to 
the reception, and endeared President Orton more than 
ever to the little band of operators. It was not long after- 
ward that these same wires, that had told of President 
Orton’s journeying, conveyed the news of his untimely 
demise, followed soon after by that of General Stager; 
and no one regretted it more than the warm-hearted boys 
of the Virginia City office. 

“Sherry” is now at Fremont, Ohio. Time and mis- 
fortune have not changed his dauntless and cheerful 
spirit; and to any visitor to his native town he will re- 
count better than I have done how he welcomed the 
president to Nevada’s metropolis. 









WHAT'S 'ATIN' YOU?" 


I T WILL be interesting to the telegraphic fraternity 
to know that one of their craft is responsible for a 
number of so-called slang expressions and quaint 
sayings in daily usage, although the author crossed the 
River Styx many years ago. 

James P. Doody was his name, and, as an operator, 
he ranked as a constellation by himself. Born of Irish 
parents, he had imbibed the true appreciation of the 
humorous for which that race is noted, and his life was 
apparently one huge and constant joke. He was well 
and favorably known in New Orleans, Memphis, and 
throughout the South generally, and during his tele- 
graphic career he had traveled far and wide, always 
leaving some very pleasant remembrance behind him. 
He took much pride in his profession, and to him is ac- 
credited the saying: ''Once an operator, always a gen- 
tleman.” 

"What's atin' you” is a very inelegant expression, and 
Jim seems to have been responsible for its introduction 
into polite society. He was working in Omaha at one 
time, and the late H. C Maynard, of Chicago, was send- 
ing "C. U. B.” to him. The wire was working hard, and 
Jim had to break a good deal. This seemed to vex 
the sender, who ejaculated a little petulantly, "What's 
the 'i8' with you?” (which means, in telegraphic par- 
lance, What is the matter with you?). Jim quickly re- 
torted: "What's atin' you?” 

Some of the boys in the Chicago office overheard the 
remark by Mr. Maynard and Jim's rejoinder, and almost 
immediately the phrase came into common usage among 
the operators of Chicago. The wires soon conveyed the 


(59 


70 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


expression to the remotest parts of the country, until 
now it is not an uncommon thing to hear an Indian in 
Southern California assert his indignation by asking, 
''Whafs atin’ you?’’ 

One hears, very often, the expression, ‘T’ll do it — 
nit,” and would hardly think that Professor Morse’s 
alphabet, purposely mutilated, miade it possible to give 
birth to such a meaningless expression. Ever^'body 
knows that the letter /‘i” in telegraphic characters is rep- 
resented by two dots, thus: and that the letter “o” 

is a dot, space and dot, thus: 

Jim Doody, with his extravagant love for some- 
thing new and odd, instead of replying to a question over 
the wire, 'T cannot,” or 'T will not,” would substitute in- 
tentionally an 'h” for an ‘^o,” and say, 'T cannit,” or 'T 
will nit.” This was taken up by the railroad operators 
too; they in turn communicated it to the train hands, 
who, always ready and eager for something new, took it 
up and passed it along, until nOw one’s ears are tor- 
tured by hearing it on every side. Even the negro min- 
strel seems to have found something ridiculously funny 
in Jim’s idle remark, for there is an alleged joke going 
the rounds telling of a man who seeemingly had no affec- 
tion for his mother-in-law and was rebuked by his wife, 
who said: ^^Why, Charlie, mamma thinks a great deal of 
you. Just see her over there now in her room knitting 
a pair of stockings for you.” To this Charlie sarcastically 
replies: ‘'Yes, I like to see my mother-in-law — knit.” 

Many another slang saying originated in the fertile 
brain of Jim Doody. Some fell by the wayside and 
were speedily choked up, but the few that I have men- 


^‘WHATS ’ATIN’ YOU?” 


71 


tioned seem to have fallen on good ground, for their 
spirit still goes marching on. 

Bright, genial characters like Jim Doody are not 
met with every day, and their friendship and acquaint- 
ance do much to break and brighten the dull monotony 
of life and teach us to believe that 

little nonsense, now and then. 

Is relished by the best of men.’' 



















PIONEER AND MODERN TELEGRAPHY ON 
THE PACIFIC COAST. 


P RIOR to the year 1857, the science of signalling by 
telegraph in all the vast country north of California 
was confined to the very primitive method of campfires, 
so generally in vogue from time immemorial among the 
North American Indians. There was no ^'wig-wagg- 
ing’’ or "telegraphing from balloons” in time of war in 
those days, but the gently ascending smoke of the fir 
tree, by day, or the sight of its flame by night, discerni- 
ble a score of miles away, was among the tactics adopted 
by the early settlers as well as by the aborigines them- 
selves. 

When the news reached the ’49ers in this part of 
the country of the exploits of the telegraph, the same 
being told by later comers to this country, the stories 
Were generally discredited. Later on the enterprising 
newspapers of San Francisco received, contained a fefw 
hundred words of telegraph news from the East each 
day, but even this was not sufficient to satisfy the doubt- 
ing ones, who could not conceive how it was possible 
to send letters and words over an inanimate piece of iron. 

It was not until the year 1857 that a practical 
demonstration was made, when Messrs. Johnson and 
Robertson, two sound-operators, arrived in Portland and 
began soliciting subscriptions to build a line to Califor- 
nia. They met with some success in raising funds and 
built a line through the dense woods up the Willamette 
valley as far as Dayton, Oregon; but at that point their 
funds and enthusiasm gave out simultaneously, and the 
enterprise was abandoned. Two years later a more de- 
termined efifort was made by J. E. Strong to build a 


73 


74 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


line to connect the City of Portland with the California 
Telegraph Company, which then had for its northern 
terminus Yreka, in Siskiyou county, California, and 
which at that time was famous as a mining camp. 

This line was completed to Eugene, Oregon, a dis- 
tance of 125 miles, and there work was suspended and 
practically abandoned, owing to the loss of the ship Ben 
Holladay, which had on board the wire and other ma- 
terial for the completion of the line to Yreka, off the 
coast of Chili. In 1863 ''Commodore’’ R. R. Haines, 
now manager of the Postal Telegraph Cable Company, 
at Los Angeles, Cal., was selected by Colonel James 
Gamble to prosecute the building of the line from Eu- 
gene, south to meet the California line. It is due to the 
Commodore’s energy and intrepidity that the line was 
completed the following February. The wire used was 
number 9 in size, and the insulators were of the crudest 
and most primitive character. The country most all of 
the way is densely wooded, and the wire was to a large 
extent attached to timber. 

Dr. O. P. S. Plummer, now a practicing physician 
of Portland, was the first manager of the Portland office. 
The doctor was a crack operator in those days, and could 
read more that "didn’t come” than any operator in the 
country. He had been working the "overland” at San 
Francisco when the late James H. Guild, for so many 
years superintendent of the Oregon Railroad & Naviga- 
tion Telegraph System, was operator at Carson City, 
Nevada. For the first six months of the doctor’s admin- 
istration in Portland, he was manager, operator, line- 
man and messenger. People soon got acquainted with 
the telegraph, and notwithstanding the exorbitant rates 


PIONEER AND MODERN TELEGRAPHY. 75 


a very good business was done. The rate from Portland 
to San Francisco was $3.00 for ten words, and $1.25 for 
each additional five words or fraction thereof. The rate 
to New York was $8.50 for ten words, and 75 cents for 
each additional word. About this time there was a 
strong speculation in mining stocks, and the telegraph 
began to reap a golden harvest. More operators and 
other assistants were soon employed, and Portland be- 
came a leading factor in the California State telegraph 
system. 

There was but little growth to the country or to the 
telegraph in Oregon up to 1882, when the writer first 
came here. One through wire to San Francisco, one 
way wire part of the way, and a railroad wire from Port- 
land to Roseburg was practically the entire system. 
North of Portland was *one lonely little wire which 
crossed the river at Vancouver, Washington, on a cable, 
and passed through a thick jungle following the Columbia 
River as far as Kalama, Washington. At this point there 
was a set of repeaters, and here is where the line branched 
off to Astoria on the west, and Seattle, Tacoma and Vic- 
toria on the north. When Portland wished to send 
to Astoria, the north was cut off, and vice versa, so that 
all the telegraphic facilities that the territory of Wash- 
ington had in 1882 w'as practically one-half of a wire, 
and that was amply sufficient for all purposes. An offi- 
cial of the Western Union Telegraph Co. remarked to 
me about this time that if all the country north of Cali- 
fornia could be eliminated from that system, the com- 
pany would be a great gainer thereby. 

During this period Henry Villard was quietly prose- 
cuting his Northern Pacific Railroad scheme, and the 


76 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


eyes of Eastern capitalists were being turned yearn- 
ingly toward the great Pacific Northwest. Railroad and 
telegraph lines were being built in every direction, many 
paralleling each other, and telegraphic affairs were boom- 
ing. Much capital was brought into the country, and 
many fortunes were made, and I might add, parenthet- 
ically, as many were lost in this mad rush. The Port- 
land office assumed metropolitan airs, and it became very 
soon the mecca for many a globe-trotting artist of the 
key. Many have basked in the gentle showers for which 
Oregon is so noted, and have gone away to tell the 
story to others, but many have remained and are sin- 
cere in their statements that ''there is no country like it.” 

From the nucleus of less than 500 miles of pole line 
and 1,000 miles of wire in Oregon in 1882, we have 
today over 2,270 miles of pole line, 6,260 miles of wire. 

About the spring of '87 there was a rumor of a rival 
company entering the field, but no credit was given 
to it, as it hardly seemed possible that an opposition 
company would defy the frowns of the dreaded Rockies 
and the uninviting appearance of the Bad Lands to come 
out this long distance to compete with the older com- 
pany. But the appearance of Mr. Henry Rosener ac- 
companied by Colonel A. B. Chandler about this time 
confirmed the report. The company prosecuted their 
work very vigorously under the direction of Messrs. 
Stronach, Atchison and Robeson, all expert line con- 
structors. 

The new company was seriously handicapped for 
quite a long time by its meager facilities, but its advent 
was warmly welcomed by the business imen of the 
Coast, who gave the new enterprise a goodly share of 


PIONEER AND MODERN TELEGRAPHY. 77 


patronage. Now, however, they have outgrown their 
swaddling clothes, and are as businesslike and preten- 
tious as even their older contemporary. 

The total number of people depending upon the tele- 
graph for a livelihood seventeen years ago in this state 
was less than fifty, but now there is an army of at least 
5,000 pursuing telegraphic, telephonic and other elec- 
trical avocations. The entire system is new and strictly 
up to date. 

Although the telegraphic facilities were very meager 
during the latter ’60s, the vast country west of Salt 
Lake City, operated by the Western Union Telegraph 
Co., which is administered now so ably by Mr. Frank 
Jaynes, superintendent at San Francisco, was then di- 
vided into five districts, all under Colonel James Gam- 
ble, of San Francisco. 

Frank Bell was superintendent for the State of Ne- 
vada, and he had for his coadjutor the late Peter H. 
Lovell, who had charge of the White Pine line. This 
was a single-wire line that had been erected prior to the 
building of the Central Pacific Railroad,and which had 
for its ramifications many erstwhile prosperous mining 
camps which today are as completely wiped off the map 
of the ''Silver State’^ as if they never had existed. 

Commodore R. R. Haines was the superintendent of 
the Southern California and Arizona district, which ex- 
tended from the Mojave Desert on the north, to Tucson, 
Arizona, in the east. 

Dr. O. P. S. Plummer was the superintendent of the 
Oregon district; General F. H. Lamb was superintend- 
ent for Washington Territory and British Columbia, 
while Frank Jaynes looked out for Central California. 


78 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


It would seem at first thought that there was a super- 
abundance of officials for the company's facilities and 


business, but in 
easy to concen- 


those days it was not so 
trate and handle such a dis- 
trict as it is today. There 
were no railroads in those 
times, and communication 
by steamer was very irreg- 
ular and uncertain. The 
company recognized the 
important fact that when the line 
was down the receipts stopped 
and the expenses began; and the 
five gentlemen selected as super- 
intendents were each eminently 
qualified for the position, as is evi- 
denced by the stories that are often 
told, to this day, of their hardships 
and exploits in their respective dis- 
tricts. 

A superintendent 
in those days did not 
have a ''snap.^^ There 
were no chief clerks, 
claim clerks, error 
clerks, stenographers, 
or any other such co- 
terie of assistants that 
lighten the burdens 
of the modern super- 
intendent, but a prac- 
tical knowledge of dots and dashes, and the ability to 
climb a pole were the qualifications and requirements 
essential to a successful superintendent. 



PIONEER AND MODERN TELEGRAPHY. 79 


Jl The telegraph in Oregon has had its quaint as well 

'[ as its useful side, but probably the funniest and most 
daring message that ever passed between a president 
, and a governor (although the occurrence took place 

several years ago, it is still fresh in the minds of many) 
was during the Coxie exodus. President Cleveland 
wired Governor Pennoyer some move relative to the 
militia, Which called for the following terse but pointed 
telegram: 

Salem, Oregon, June lo, 1893. 
Grover Cleveland, Washington, D. C. : 

You min'd your business and Pll mind mine. 

Sylvester Pennoyer, Governor. 




















1 


BILLY McGINNISS^ ^^WAKEJ^ 


OME years ago a queer character named 



McGinniss had charge of a section on one of our 
Western railroads. The original name of the sta- 
tion where he was located was '‘Hell-to-Pay/’ and it was 
known by that name for a long time; but with the com- 
pletion of the railroad and the issuing of maps and time- 
cards, it was deemed advisable to change it to the more 
euphonious name of Eltopia. 

Billy was Irish by birth, and he had a strong love 
for his native land, and it was with much chagrin that 
he found that his section men were all Germans, with 
not a single man from his own beloved country. 

He was somewhat of an operator, having had for his 
tutor the irrepressible ‘"Dick” Tubman, who was oper- 
ator at the “front"’ during the construction of the road. 
And SO it happened that Billy McGinniss would fill his 
subordinates with awe when he occasionally invited one 
or two of them in to see him “touch the wire to Yaki- 


ma. 


Billy was a hard taskmaster, and he made it a point 
to see that his sturdy laborers did not “sojer” with their 
work. He had the reputation of getting more work 
out of his men than any other section foreman on the 
road. He gloried in this record, but his men Cordially 
disliked him and his driving methods. The end came 
one day when Billy was laid low with a fever, and he 
expressed his conviction that his last hour had arrived. 
He called in his most trusty man, and to him he detailed 
his last wishes. The estate was not large, and, after 
sundry bequests, he devised that the sum of $50 should 
be used for the purpose of holding a wake. Billy’s last 


6 


81 


82 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


request was that this money should be spent in whisky, 
beer, cigars, pipes, tobacco and sandwiches, and that his 
section men gather around his remains and ''wake’' him 



BILLY TOUCHING THE WIRE TO YAKIMA. 



r 


BILLY McGINNISS’ “WAKE.” 83 

in the true ‘‘ould countrae’’ style. There were no other 
inhabitants excepting these German section men in this 
wild and lonely place, and the refreshments had to come 
from Spokane. Billy died as he had expected, and the 
section men proceeded in a conscientious manner to 
fulfill the last wishes of the departed. Pipes were filled, 
and beer and whisky glasses clinked merrily as the 
mourners drank ''Ge soon tight” to Billy. They would 
fill their glasses and then walk over to where the corpse 
was laid out, and, mournfully shaking their heads, would 
solemnly drain the contents, and then proceed to refill 
their pipes. 

It is said to be the custom on occasions of this kind 
to recount the good deeds of the deceased and to bewail 
his demise, but, try as hard as they might, the Germans 
could not recall a single noble deed that they could 
commend. This fact seemed to smite their consciences, 
for the men did not think that it was quite right to par- 
take of Billy’s hospitality and not even say a good word 
to his memory. A liberal libation finally quickened the 
heavy brain of the Teutonics, and at a signal from their 
leader each replenished his glass and gathered around 
the bier, assuming a grotesque, mournful air. Gazing 
at Billy’s countenance, every trace o'f past resentment 
seemed to disappear as the spokesman ejaculated: '‘Veil, 
Pilly vas a goot schmoker, anyvay.” 




* 


A MESSENGER BOY'S TRIP TO LONDON- 


I T WAS midnight in the City of San Francisco, and 
that gay metropolis was alive with pleasure-seekers 
returning home from the various places of amuse- 
ment for which that city is far famed. 

In the district messenger office on Sutter street, near 
Kearney, mes'senger No. 47, known to the force as 
^^Chicken,’^ had just gotten back from a “dig’’ to the Pre- 
sidio. 

“Chicken” had returned but a few minutes when a 
richly attired lady entered the office, accompanied by a 
4-year-old girl, and asked the clerk to let her engage 
the brightest messenger on the force. 

No. 47 was called, and the lady looked at him with 
a critical eye, and, apparently satisfied with her inspec- 
tion, said: “I have a very important mission to send 
you on, and money is no dbject in this matter. I was 
on my way to Australia with my little daughter here, and 
I was to leave tomorrow, but this afternoon I received a 
cablegram, advising me to return to London or send my 
little girl home, as much depended on it. It is impossible 
for me to go, as I have engaged a stateroom for tomor- 
row’s steamer for Australia, leaving here at 8:20 A. M., 
and I want to send my daughter by you to London, Eng- 
land, with tomorrow night’s train. 

“I will pay you well for your trouble, and we will now 
proceed to figure up the expense. The fare to New 
York, including meals and sleeping berths, will not 
exceed $150 — ^we will call it $200. Now, you will require 
some new clothes and a trunk, say $100 more. For your 
expenses across the Atlantic and back I will allow $400. 
Then your return fare to San Francisco, $200 more, 


85 


86 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


and, let me see — your time, and an extra fee for good 
service; say, altogether, $i,ooo. I will give you a check 
for that amount now, and I will expect you to start for 
London by tomorrow night’s train.” 

''Chicken” was surprised and delighted with the an- 
ticipated trip and with the very liberal fee that he was 
to receive, and the more he thought of it, the greater 
was his joy. 

The lady figured with the clerk how much "Chick- 
en’s” time would amount to for a month, and generously 
handed over a check for $ioo for the boy’s services. 

After kissing the little girl good-by, and cautioning 
the boy to be careful with his charge, the lady departed, 
and "Chicken” took the cars for his home, accompanied 
by the little girl. 

Arriving there, "Chicken” imparted to his father his 
good luck. The old gentleman, however, was a close fig- 
urer, and he saw an opportunity of purchasing the cor- 
ner grocery store on which he had had his eye for a 
long time. He scouted the idea that the boy needed 
any new clothes, and asserted that a tourist sleeper was 
good enough for any one, and that a basket or two of 
provisions were all the meals necessary for the boy and 
his charge. A steerage passage across the ocean would 
be a picnic for the boy, and $150 would cover all the ex- 
penses of the trip, thus leaving him the balance to pur- 
chase the grocery store. 

"Chicken” hardly liked the turn that affairs had taken, 
but he feared his father’s ire and resolved to make the 
best oi it. 

Bright and early the next day father and son were up, 
and long before banking hours they were down town. 


A MESSENGER BOY’S TRIP TO LONDON. 87 


They stopped en route at Spear-street wharf, and there 
“Chicken’' caught a last glimpse of the lady, who waved 
her handkerchief to him from the departing steamer. 

Promptly at lo o’clock the twain appeared at the 
Nevada Bank, upon which the check was drawn, and 
were curtly informed that the maker o'f the check was 
unknown. This deeply incensed the old man, who fell 
to belaboring his son with his cane, in the midst of 
which “Chicken” awoke and found that his comrades 
had been putting ice down his back during his sleep. 



( 

i'. 


1 




k 


I 



[J 


A PIUTE DETECTIVE. 


Tale of a Nevada Telegraph Operator. 

O THE dense mind of our North American Indian 



1 a joke is an unknown quantity, and it is quite cer- 
tain that he could not appreciate one were he to 
meet it alone and unlabeled coming down the street or 
in the woods. To him everything is stern reality, and 
he has little time for a joker or his fun. All Indian 
legends and traditions, when related by themselves, are 
told in a semi-poetic manner, but stripped entirely of any- 
thing that would in the least smack of the jocose. 
Whether it was really an accident, or designed, that a 
Piute squaw made the hero of this sketch the victim of 
a practical joke, I will leave the reader to decide. 

A quarter of a century ago there was no better known 
operator in the Canadas, Buffalo, Chicago, Omaha or 
St. Louis than George E. Millar. He was large in stat- 
ure and big of heart. He was the office poet and the 
author of many a humorous story, and his presence in 
any office was considered an acquisition. About 1878 he 
was chief operator for the Atlantic & Pacific Telegraph 
Company in St. Louis, but, filled with a desire to im- 
prove his condition, and believing that he could do so in 
the Far West, he accepted the managership of the Pioche, 
Nevada, office, which place was then at the height of 
its mining prosperity. Two years later found him at 
Austin, Nevada, a solid little city of about 2,000 inhab- 
itants. A burg in an Eastern state of only 2,000 popula- 
tion would be reckoned as a place of little revenue to a 
telegraph company, but things were different in Nevada. 
Out of the 2,000 inhabitants of Austin there were 1,977 


89 


90 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


men and about two dozen women and children. The 
population was a very cosmopolitan one, being com- 
posed of all shades, colors and conditions under the sun. 
Outside of a few storekeepers the entire working popu- 
lation were miners, and the camp was a rich one. 

Aimong these miners one might find doc.tors, lawyers, 
professors, clerks, musicians and every grade of genteel 
or laborious vocations, working side by side with never a 
jar. There was not the usual roystering and riotous- 
ness in Austin that so generally prevails in other mining 
camps. Women were few, and such a thing as a hired 
girl was out of the question, for the men of Austin were 
by far too gallant to allow a woman to work. As soon 
as one came to the town she was besieged by the ^'philos- 
ophers’’ with offers to marry, and such women were soon 
mated. It was no easy task, therefore, to supply the 
demand for domestics, as even the Chinese were above 
working in the kitchen in those days, and the housewife 
in her needs was forced to fall back on the sturdy Piute 
squaw. 

The belle of this little community was the mayor’s 
daughter, and naturally enough she received attention 
on all sides. Nevertheless George soon found favor in 
her eyes. Miss Margaret was arbitrary in her demands 
for her lover’s attention, and he rarely attempted to re- 
main away from her longer than was necessary. One 
evening he was prevailed upon by one of his friends to 
pass a few hours in playing a social game of billiards. 
George was for a time unable to decide between love for 
his old pastime and the duty he owed to his affianced. 
Yielding to his friend’s solicitations, however, he con- 
sented to while away the evening with him and not to 


A PIUTE DETECTIVE. 


91 


make any apology to Miss Margaret till the morrow. 
Margaret had arranged dififerentl}^ for, after* waiting 
until the usual time for George to put in an appearance, 
she called in her Piute squaw to assist in bringing the 
recalcitrant George to time. A happy thought struck 
her, and she immediately began to put it into execution. 
Going to her photograph album, she produced a picture 
of George and his friend, whom she suspected of being 
accessory to his delinquency. '‘See, Mahala,’^ she cried, 
'Took here! You see this big man with littee hair on his 
head. Noiw you see this littee man? You go down 
town and find them, and tell them to come home quick; 
I want to see them.’^ 

Mahala seemed quickly to take in the situation, and 
flinging her papoose over her shoulder started down 
town to find the truant lover. She first visited the hotel, 
and there became an object of attention with the miners. 
She approached each one, and after earnestly consulting 
his features, would scan the photograph, and, with a 
shake of her head, pass on to the next one. She went 
through the bar-room, out into the street, and into the 
next refectory, where the same routine was gone through 
with. After a tiresome search of more than an hour, 
she entered the well-appointed billiard parlor of "Jack'' 
Frost, which was filled by the devotees of that pastime. 
Holding the photograph in her outstretched hands, and 
with her embryo savage on her back, she presented a 
ludicrous picture, and as a detective she would have put 
any member of the Pinkerton force to shame. She 
glanced around, and presently her quick eye lighted on 
George, who was at the end of the room. Evidently she 
could not believe the testimony of her sight, as she 



92 


UGH! YOU SQUAW, SHE LONG TIME NO SEE YOU; YOU GO HOME MUCHA QUICK. 



A PIUTE DETECTIVE. 


93 


glanced at the picture and then at George. The latter 
was innocently watching his friend attempting to make 
a difficult ‘'masse’' shot. Approaching the unsuspect- 
ing George, Mahala ejaculated in her guttural tones, dis- 
tinguishable to all in the room: “Ugh, you squaw, she 
long time no see you; you go home mucha quick/’ A 
glance at the photograph was enough to tell the story, 
and a laugh from the bystanding “philosophers” showed 
that it was appreciated by the'm. Mahala was dismissed, 
and cigars and refreshments were ordered by George, 
who speedily sought the road to Margaret’s domicile, 
and it never occurred again that it was necessary to 
press Mahala into the detective service. 
















ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 


IVE me Liberty or give me Death/’ was the slogan 



of the great and patriotic Virginian, and the sen- 
timent has thundered down the ages of time ever 
since, until the breast of every schoolboy has beaten in 
response to the inspired Patrick Henry. 

'‘Uncle Sam” is an indulgent parent and is always 
kind enough to provide Sunday and holiday hours for 
all of his employes, and so it happened that the post- 
office in the city of San Francisco was open to the pub- 
lic only between the hours of lo A. M. and 12 M. of a 
bright Sunday morning. There was an unusually large 
crowd gathered in and around the depository of the 
mail. Merchants, great and small, elbowed with their 
clerks; bankers, stenographers, male and female, with a 
fair sprinkling of wealthy and refined ladies had gath- 
ered to receive their letters, being too impatient to wait 
on the more tardy carrier of the morrow. It was a very 
cosmopolitan assemblage, and one that could be seen no 
place in the world except in San Francisco. 

Mounted on a dry goods box, on the corner opposite 
the postoffice, was a strange, intense-looking man. He 
was surveying the immense assemblage, evidently not 
looking for any particular person, but viewing the crowd 
as a whole. Suddenly and with the roar of a lion the 
man drew a revolver from his hip pocket, and in a hoarse 
voice distinguishable throughout the multitude, he cried 
out: "Gimme Notoriety or gimme Death!” The words 
were immediately followed by the report of a pistol. 
One, two, three, four, five, six, they rang out and a 
great shout went up from the crowd. "Pm shot!” "Fni 
killed!” was the cry that went out from many throats. 


95 


96 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


The bloodthirsty villain was speedily thrown from his 
perch on top of the dry goods box and dragged into an 
adjacent saloon. Cries of '‘Hang him!'’ went up from 
the crowd and a rush was made to seize him, but the 
timely arrival of the "hurry-up wagon" which conveyed 
the man to the Toombs saved his life. 

At the prison the man gave his name as "Hank’’ Bo- 
gardus, and his business that of a comedian. He sent 
for his friend, Marcus Wiggin, and the two were closeted 
for an hour. Appearances looked very blue for Bogar- 
dus, but it was observed that Mr. Wiggin had a merry 
twinkle in his eye as he left the prisoner's cell, which was 
not considered ominous for the prisoner. 

It was found that notwithstanding the close proxim- 
ity of Bogardus to the crowd, and the apparent delibera- 
tion of his aim, there was really not a person who could 
show a scratch on his body. To be sure, there were 
holes through different person's hats and coats shown in 
evidence of narrow escapes, and one man displayed an 
alleged bullet-hole in his trousers which indicated that he 
had had his back to the enemy, but there was not a single 
drop of blood shed. 

The morning journals vied with each other in their 
accounts of the dastardly occurrence. Pictures of Banker 
Brown, who had his silk hat shot off his head, and a cut 
of Dr. Pillbox, who exhibited a bullet-hole just one- 
fourth of an inch above his heart, and a diabolical-look- 
ing illustration of the would-be homicide were among 
the chief item's of news the following morning. All the 
papers were loud in their denunciations of the prisoner 
and his attempt to commit wholesale murder, and labored 
editorials were published essaying to find a severe 
enough punishment to mete the crime. 


ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 


97 


The hero of all this excitement remained in his cell 
all night, calm, serene and even smiling, which betok- 
ened, according to all the traditions of the police de- 
partment, a great hardness of heart. 

The courtroom was filled the following morning by a 
large crowd of curious people anxious to see the prisoner 
and hear the full particulars of the shooting. There 
were present, also, many witnesses against the prisoner, 
with their Sunday clothes in evidence. Many wore their 
war-stained hats proudly, and some brought their tat- 
tered garments carefully wrapped up to present as testi- 
mony against the prisoner. 

As Bogardus entered the courtrooim loud mutterings 
greeted him on all sides. It was evident that the peo- 
ple were highly wrought up, and nothing but Bogy's^’ 
blood would satisfy them. 

Attorney Wiggin smiled through it all. After the 
charge had been read and the enormity of the crime 
had been expatiated upon by the prosecuting attorney, 
Mr. Wiggin arose for the defense. 

He said he would prove that his client was not a mur- 
derer; that his pistol was loaded with blank cartridges; 
that the prisoner was a practical joker and that the day 
of the shooting was the first of April. It is hardly 
necessary to add that Mr. Wiggin succeeded in fully 
establishing his client’s innocence of any intentional crime 
and he was immediately released from custody. He 
wanted notoriety and he got lots of it and to spare. The 
heroes who had displayed the alleged bullet-holes were 
heroes no longer, and those who could left town until 
the affair was forgotten by their friends. 


7 





'HERE have been many curious and 
interesting stories told about 
Thomas A. Edison, but the following 
has never before appeared in print: 

In the late '70s Willis J. Cook, affec- 
tionately remembered by all old-timers as 
“Biff" Cook, arrived in Omaha direct 
from New York city. “Biff" was a 
handsome young fellow, easy of manner, with the jaunti- 
est of airs, and fully capable of being equally at home 
in the presence of even such an august personage as a 
railroad president as with a section foreman. “Biff's" 
apparel was always well fitting and of the best fabric, but 
his wardrobe was never too bulky, and to fill up the 
recesses of his trunk he had curios of all kinds and de- 
scriptions. He possessed much admiration for Walter 
P. Phillips, and every article from that gentleman's pen 
found its way into “Biffs' scrap-book. One of his most 
interesting relics was some hundred or more sheets of 
“press" copied by the “stars" of those days, and it may 
be imagined that some of this copy could hardly be re- 
produced in these days of “mill" writing. O'ccasionally 
“Biff" would show these sacred pages to a dear friend, 
and together they would debate as to the relative merits 
of the different “copy." There were representations 
from all over the country including specimens from such 
artists as Thos. P. Wheeler and John L. Cassidy, of St. 
Louis; C. H. H. Cottrell, of New Orleans; Ernest W. 
Emery and M. J. Burke, of Salt Lake; W. A. Manning, 
of Cleveland; Thos. H. Berry and Erank Medina, of San 


99 


100 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


Francisco; Thomas R. Taltavall, of New York; Jas. C. 
Delong, of Chicago, and many other bright satellites. 
But of all his treasures ‘'Biff’' prized most highly a half 
dozen diagrams with accompanying notations in the 
well-known handwriting of Thomas A. Edison. He told 
us the history of these drawings one night in aibout the 
following words: 

“It was in ’74 and ’75 that Ned Fullum, Jim Largay, 
Fred Baldwin and myself were nightly detailed to report 
at Edison’s office, where we put in three to five hours 
‘dotting on the quadruplex.’ Of course it was a snap, 
for many times we would not have a thing to do, for 
Edison would be engaged in working out some apparent- 
ly difficult problem, and us boys would sit around and 
tell stories. Edison was just beginning to make himself 
known in telegraphic and electrical circles, and one 
evening I told him that he was getting up a great reputa- 
tion as an inventor; and I observed that a paper down at 
Sandusky, O., had recently printed an item, alleged to be 
humorous, to the effect that he could invent anything at 
all, even to a machine which if merely talked into would 
bore a hole in the ground deep enough for a well. Edi- 
son gave a little chuckle and sat down at his desk and 
straig'htway fell to figuring and drawing all sorts of dia- 
grams. A half hour or so afterwards he came over 
to me with these very same drawings in his hand and 
remarked: ‘Well, here you are. Here is your auto- 
matic well-digger.’ Edison then illustrated his dia- 
grams saying: ‘You have here a transmitter, similar to 
the telephone. By speaking through this transmitter the 
vibrations of your voice revolve a cog wheel which 
moves into another, that into another ad infinitum, all 


DIGGING WELLS BY TELEPHONE. 


101 


gaining mamentum and velocity as they move along. 
At the end of numerous cogs and kinks there is placed 
a gimlet and it merely depends upon how long you wag 
your jaw to determine how deep the well will be — but, 
my boy, where would be its commercial value?’ ” 

Years have elapsed since then; the bright spirit of 
Willis J. Cook has passed on and the ‘Wizard of Menlo 
Park’’ has solved much more difficult problems than dig- 
ging wells by telephone. 


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"1 








ENTERPRISE IN EMERGENCY* 


I T IS not of recent years only that the great dailies of 
New York city showed unmistakable enterprise in 
endeavoring to serve their readers with the very latest 
news and from any clime under the sun. The corre- 
spondents were just as alert and keen to scoop their 
rivals 30 years ago, and hardships were not reckoned in 
the premises when there was an opportunity to get ahead 
of a competitor. 

It was in the year 1867 that the whole country was 
more or less agog with excitement regarding the annex- 
ation of Alaska, and news of the favorable termination of 
that commission was looked forward to with much inter- 
est. The New York Herald, then under the manage- 
ment of the elder Bennett, took the lead as a purveyor of 
news, and expense cut little figure when it came to fur- 
nishing its readers with the latest intelligence. The pro- 
prietors of the other big dailies of New York were equally 
ready, but hardly as enterprising as Mr. Bennett. 

The American commissioners were to leave San Fran- 
cisco on the old side-wheeler Sierra Nevada for Sitka, 
Alaska, where they were to meet the Russian commis- 
sioners and make the final arrangements for the formal 
cession of the vast territory of Alaska. Some 20 or more 
representatives of the press accompanied the American 
commissioners, all the leading papers of the country 
and some foreign journals being among the representa- 
tion. They were the brightest men on their respective 
staffs. The New York Flerald’s correspondent was Mr. 
Timothy O’Shaughnessy, who was well known under 
the nom de plume of “Dr. Byron Adonis.’' He was a 


103 


104 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


tall, well-built Irishman, 30 years df age, possessed of 
indomitable energy and always ready with some expedi- 
ent in cases of emergency. 

The commissioners of the two great nations met in 
Sitka and speedily transacted their business; and the 
Sierra Nevada steamed away on her return trip. The 
first telegraphic station en route was Victoria, V. I., and 
it was at this point that all the newspaper correspondents 
hoped to file their specials; and as business was done at 
a telegraph office in about the same form as is usually 
in vogue at the present time in a barber s'hop, ''First 
come, first served,’^ they were all determined to make a 
mighty effort to be the first served. 

A short distance out from Sitka, the Sierra Nevada 
broke her shaft and she was obliged to make the journey 
with one paddle, and when the ship reached Nanaimo 
she put in for repairs. This place is 40 miles from Vic- 
toria and the only means of reaching the latter place 
overland was through a trackless forest. "Byron 
Adonis’" sized up the situation in an instant and resolved 
to get to Victoria some way. He departed unnoticed, 
and after a most perilous and thrilling experience, he 
arrived at Victoria, hatless, bootless and with his clothes 
torn to tatters, as the result of his encounter with the 
heavy underbrush. John Henderson, now of Portland, 
Or., was the manager and only operator at Victoria at 
this time, and he was laid up with a broken limb. "Byron 
Adonis,” as he rushed in on Henderson, with his fiery 
red hair standing on end, a roll of manuscript in his 
hand and with a "whoop-la” demanding that it be trans- 
mitted immediately, was an apparition indeed. When 
Henderson recovered from his surprise he informed the 


ENTERPRISE IN EMERGENCY. 


105 


correspondent that the line was doiwn. Overwhelmed 
with chagrin and disappointment, ''Byron'' asked what 
was to be done next, and was told that he could probably 
get^some of the siwashes to row him over to the main- 
land, some 20 miles distant, where he could no doubt 
get his matter through. 

Without further parley the correspondent rushed 
away and speedily struck a bargain with a couple of In- 
dians to row him over to Swinomish, Wash., where he 
filed his specials for t)ie New York Herald, which were 
published the following morning in that paper and tele- 
graphed back again to the Pacific Coast papers. The 
special was full and comprehensive, and of course the 
score or more of other papers were badly scooped, so 
they did not file any of their matter after this, as "Byron 
Adonis" had done it up brown. This was a red-letter 
day in O’Shaugnessy's history. He returned to Vic- 
toria where he celebrated his success in higk style. The 
Herald seemed to have appreciated their indefatigable 
correspondent's enterprise, for he was rewarded by be- 
ing appointed resident correspondent for that journal 
in the City of Mexico. 

Although this occurrence took place more than 30 
years ago, there are residents of the staid little city ot 
Victoria who remember and speak of the time when red- 
haired "Byron Adonis" scooped all his contemporaries 
by his exercise of "enterprise in emergency." 




HE hero of this sketch became an operator in i860 


1 and was among the first to offer his services to his 
country for $125 per month and rations, to put down the 
rebellion. He still holds to the belief, however, that his 
letter of application which cited the fact that he did not 
indulge in any ‘'spirituah’ liquors was the prime factor in 
his being accepted and placed under General Thomas T. 
Eckert's jurisdiction. This was 40 years ago, and Fred 
Loomis, the bright lad of that period, is rapidly growing 
into the sere and yellow leaf. 

Fred's experience extends beyond the confines of the 
operating-room, for he has held many responsible posi- 
tions with the different railroad companies. At one 
time he was conductor on a railroad in Nevada. The 
road had once been very prosperous and had been a val- 
uable piece of property, but the decline in silver killed it. 
Fred was conductor of the accommodation train and it 
w'as indeed what its name stated — an accdmmodation 
train. The train was bound north one day and was 
half way on its journey over a stretch of 100 miles, when 
a lady boarded it at a station named Diamond Springs. 
She had ridden 10 miles or so when she discovered that 
she was going in the wrong direction. Hastily calling 
the conductor, she told him of her mistake. ‘'Oh, you 
want to go to Eureka instead of Palisades, do you? Well, 


107 



108 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


that is all right. I will fix it for you.’’ And ringing for 
the train to stop, he directed the engineer to reverse his 
engine and start south with his solitary passenger. 

Some time afterward Fred left Nevada and was of- 
fered a passenger run on a more prosperous Pacific road. 
He had a friend in the person of the president of the road 



who seemed to have all confidence in Fred’s ability to 
run any kind of a train. It was different, however, be- 
ing conductor of a combination freight, express and pas- 
senger, with a little dinkey engine, and a great modern 
train of a dozen or more cars. Fred was all right, he 
thought, after he got it started, but exactly how to start 


SOME REMINISCENCES. 


109 


such a train he did not know. The hour for departure 
of his first train had arrived. The engine had whistled, 
signifying that all was ready, but Fred was in a quan- 
dary how to start the ponderous mass. He solved the 
problem, however, when he called out to his brakeman: 
“I say there, brakie, you give the engineer the ‘usual 
sign’ to go ahead.” 

Loomis was once ticket agent for a Western road. 
There was an old lady who traveled a good deal, always 
accompanied by a little boy for whom she purchased a 
half-fare ticket. The twain made the trips quite often, 
and Fred became quite well acquainted with the old lady, 
but the boy he could not see excepting the top of his 
head. Reaching out of his ticket window one day to 
pat the small boy on the head, he accidentally let his 
fingers rest on the urchin’s chin for a moment, and then 
quickly ejaculated: “Why, little Jimmie, you are badly 
in need of a shave.” The old lady paid full fare for “Lit- 
tle Jimmie” thereafter. 



•■u 


i 


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A 

'V 



A YOUTHFUL mind is quick* to grasp impressions, 
good or bad, and flashy and trashy novels in the 
hands of the youth go a long way towards cultivat- 
ing impressions which, once formed, are very difficult to 
! eradicate. There is perhaps no greater reader of rosy- 
, tinted literature than is the modern telegraph messenger, 
f and it very frequently occurs that the youngsteFs idea 

j of life is gleaned from the pages of his favorite author, 

: and such heroes as ‘'Snaky Snodgrass'’ and "Cheyenne 

Charlie” are as realistic to him as are the more sedate 

e Washington and Andrew 
Jackson. 

Some years ago there 
lived in the City of Cleve- 
land a boy named Sim 
Blossom, who worked in 
the capacity of messenger 
for the telegraph company. 
Sim was an ardent devour- 
er of yellow-backed litera- 
ture, and he generally spent 
all his "tips” in acquiring a 
library of his beloved au- 
thors, and every spare 



11 


112 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


moment he would devote to the perusal of these works, 
After a careful study of this sort of fiction for several 
months, Sim could see how he could improve on the 
methods in vogue for recapturing the stolen heiresses 
from the doughty redskins, and he longed to be out with 
his rifle and other paraphernalia of Indian warfare and 
hunt the Comanche in his den, and the blood-thirsty 
Sioux in his lair, so to speak. He was particularly anx- 
ious to appear at soijie time as a hero and to have his 
deeds of valor ‘'go thundering down the ages.'" Sim at 
various times had imparted to his youthful associates 
his plan, which was to provide himself with a complete 
armament both for the defensive and offensive, and go to 
Ogallalla or Beowawe, where he thought he would go at 
once into the business of reducing the Indian population. 
Several of his companions expressed a desire to go into 
business with him, and all began their preparations for 
this long journey. 

Sim was 19 years old, tall and lank, with very cross 
eyes, which gave him a rather villainous appearance, 
but he was far from being a desperado. In fact, he had 
an unmistakable belief in the “bogie-man’' and other such 
bugaboos of childhood; but strong in the belief that his 
mission was a worthy one and that he would be crowned 
with glory and laurels, he departed quietly one evening 
with a ticket in his pocket, the destination of which was 
Omaha. His companions backed out at the last mo- 
ment, but Sim was not to be daunted, so he set out 
alone. He brought with him a goodly supply of his 
favorite books to study en route, and his accoutrements 
were numerous and varied. He had a big rifle to kill 
big Indians and two smaller side arms with which to dis- 


A MODERN DON QUIXOTE. 


113 


pose of the squaws and pappooses. He brought quite 
an assortment of knives with him, consisting of bowies, 
Barlows and sundry razors, evidently expecting to do 
business with some of the colored population. He had 
forgotten nothing that he thought 
might render him very formidable 
to the red men of the plains. 

I will not dwell upon the experi- 
ences and vicissitudes of 
our hero after his arrival 
at Omaha. He found 
the people of that thriv- 
ing city just 
denizens o f 
Euclid ave- 
nue of his 
own city. A 
trifle more in- 
d e pendent 
and prosper- 
ous,- perhaps, 
but just as 
peaceful and 
order-loving. He was made much 
Sport of by the loungers around the 
depot who wished to examine his 
‘layout,’’ and in the course of this 
inspection some unkind frontiers- 
man appropriated his most sacred 
stock in trade, his favorite novels. 

Not having anything to refer to, 

® ^ SIM IN THE WILDS OF 

he was entirely at sea as to what omaha. 



‘THE BIGGEST INJCJN 
IN OMAHA.” 



8 


114 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


to do. For several days Sim wandered around Omaha 
aimlessly. He had been convinced that his errand was a 
foolish one, and he was now anxious to return home. 

Meek and hungry he finally reached home, but he 
never went to visit his former associates at the telegraph 
office. 

These occurrences took place many years ago and 
more wisdom has fallen to the lot of Sim Blossom. He 
has not, however, overcome his love for gore, for he is 
now following the avocation of “peanut butcher’’ on one 
of the “Big Four” trains. 





OYSTERS CAUSE WIRE TROUBLE. 


N the Atlantic Coast and throughout the Middle 



^ States, when there is any trouble with the wires it is 
generally occasioned by the elements. It may be ice and 
sleet in the winter, and it may be a heavy wind or rain 
storm during the summer months; but most interrup- 
tions to the wires are due to some such causes, and the 
lineman does not look for anything out of the usual run 
of things in trying to locate a break. It seems that the 
condition of things is different on the Pacific Coast. Im- 
agine a line repairer in the East looking for wire trouble 
with a feather duster in hand and having feather dusters 
as part of his outfit or accoutrement. It is not at all unu- 
sual, however, to have such an incident occur in the 
southern part of Oregon. 

Some years ago the wires between Roseburg, Or., 
and the California line had not been working well for 
some months and the chief operator at Portland was 
nonplussed to determine what the trouble was. Every 
repairer that he had sent over the line had reported the 
wires free from obstruction, but for several hours in the 
morning there would be a heavy ''ground,’" which would 
disappear as the day advanced, only to come in again 
towards evening. The chief made a personal trip over 
the line, and upon close inspection of several poles dis- 
covered that they were covered with a thick mass of 
cobwebs. There was generally a heavy fog in the morn- 
ing and evening and the thick fog on this mass of cob- 
webs formed a very good "ground.” 

The different linemen were speedily equipped with 
feather dusters and were given instructions to carefully 


115 


116 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


brush away^the cobwebs from each pole, and the mys- 
terious trouble disappeared. 

Some linemen would be apt to object to carrying with 
them the paraphernalia of a housemaid; but even such 
cases of wire interruptions are not so ludicrous as the 
following, which recently occurred in Portland: 

Superintendent Thatcher, of the Oregon Telephone 
Company, was at work one day in his private office, when 
a young Englishman rushed in and exclaimed excitedly : 
■'The oysters are interfering with your wires.’’ ‘What do 
you mean?” said Mr. Thatcher. “Just what I say,” replied 
the man ; “the oysters are at your poles, and your wires 
will soon be all on the ground.” This was an entirely new 
experience for the superintendent, so he proceeded to in- 
vestigate. On his way down street he met a reporter for 
the Oregonian in search of an item and he acquainted him 
with the singular case of alleged line trouble. The reporter 
in turn communicated the fact to some bystanders, all of 
whom joined the procession to the scene of the trouble. 
Several blocks away there was a new building in the 
course of erection and the Britisher now triumphantly 
pointed out to the bewildered telephone superintendent 
the spectacle of a hoisting derrick elevating material to 
the fourth story of the building, and ejaculated: “There, 
see the ’oisters and the ’oisting machine; they will surely 
break down all your wires !’^ 

The cause of all this great commotion was not the 
succulent bivalve, so instead of engaging a French chef’s 
services. Superintendent Thatcher sent for a lineman to 
act in an official capacity. 


THE CARSON CANNING COMPANY^ 



HE state of Nevada is not remarkable for its diver- 


1 sified industries, and agriculture exists there only 
as the wants of the people demand it. Mining is 
the chief industry, and the great markets o^ California 
are ransacked to furnish food and raiment for the sister 
state. It is no wonder then that the following advertise- 
ment in the Carson Appeal occasioned a little surprise 
in the minds of the citizens of that beautiful little city: 


CARSON CANNING COMPANY. 
OFFICE: 

TELEGRAPH CIGAR STORE, 
CARSON, NEVADA. 


The location of the office of this new company 
seemed to somewhat solve the question, for the pro- 
prietor, Jim Farrell, always had a bright eye open for 
any possible chance of capturing the nimble dollar, and 
he was ably assisted by his coadjutor. Jack Marshall. 
Stocks were booming, and the people of Carson merely 
gave the advertisement a passing glance, turning their 
attention to the more engrossing topic of the rise in the 
mining market. The card continued to appear in the 
, columns of the Appeal and the office of the Tele- 
graph cigar store received daily, by mail, catalogues, 
price-lists, etc., from different manufacturers all over 
the country. Some of these tradesmen had lithographs 
to offer, some had new brands and styles of tomato and 
other cans to sell, but all wanted to do business with the 
new concern. 


117 


118 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


There seemed, however, to be an air of mystery 
surrounding the Carson Canning Company, and neither 
of the twain who comprised the company was disposed 
to say much about it. Both were great jokers, but in 
what manner they proposed to perpetrate their fun was 
difficult to determine. However, it all came out one 
day. 

The San Francisco train brought with it one morn- 
ing a dapper little drummer from the Bay City. He 
registered at the Ormsby hotel, where he inquired for 
the location of the Carson Canning Company, and was 
directed to the Telegraph cigar store. Repairing there, 
he met the utbane and smiling Jim Farrell, whom he 
plied with numerous questions. He stated that he rep- 
resented a label firm in San Francisco, who were anxious 
to do business with the Carson Canning Company, and 
he wished to display his wares and samples, w’hich he 
had brought with him. Jim told him there was to be a 
meeting of the board of directors of the company that 
evening at 7 o’clock, and if he wished he might attend 
it and canvass the matter with the board. The drummer 
promised to be on hand promptly, and Farrell lost no 
time in sending for Jack Marshall, and the pair had a 
secret conference, the result of which was that the serv- 
ices of half a dozen Indian boys were secured. They 
were to be on hand at 7 o’clock that evening at Far- 
rell’s office, each boy bringing along two Indian dogs, 
and the canning company would do the rest. A large 
number of oyster cans, fruit cans, dis'hpans and other 
varied tinware in a more or less dilapidated state were 
secured and placed in the back room of the office, ready 
for business. 


THE CARSON CANNING COMPANY. 119 

Promptly at 7 o’clock the drummer appeared at Far- 
rell’s office to meet the board of directors. He was in 
an especial good humor in anticipation of a handsome 
order from the canning company. He treated the 
loungers-about very liberally, and then requested to be 
introduced to the board of directors. 'T will now intro- 
duce you to the whole plant,” said Jack Marshall, and 
he disappeared into the next room, from whence he soon 
emerged, accompanied by a shower of dogs waist-deep, 
each canine having attached to his caudal appendage an 
article in the tin-can line. At a signal from Jack, there 
was a temporary dispersion of the board of directors, 
who made way for the canines, who disappeared to view 
down the street in clouds of cans and dust. ‘'This is 
the Carson Canning Company, and you see we are plen- 
tifully supplied with labels, and will not require any- 
thing in your line at present,” said Jack to the very much 
astonished drummer. The latter took the joke very 
good-naturedly, and his firm, too, appreciated it. The 
columns of the Appeal, however, no longer contain 
the card of the Carson Canning Company. It’s mission 
seems to have been filled. 







J IM BRAN AGIN was the night 
operator at Hamhurg. There 
was nothing remarkable in this 
fact, as Hamburg had been the 
starting point for many an embry- 
otic ‘‘Bert Ayres;’* and neither can 
it be stated positively that Ham- 
burg derived its name from being 
the nursery of this kind of talent. 

Like all up-to-date night operators, Jim was the ac- 
knowledged leader in his little community, and quite 
curious were some of his assertions. 

One evening he related to his guileless listeners, who 
flocked around the depot after train time, how he came to 
be named Branagin. “You see,” said Jim, “My forefath- 
ers were born in Ireland, in the County Tipperary; and 
were for many generations millers by trade. The farm- 
ers would bring in their wheat to be ground and they 
always received honest and fair treatment; and being 
known as honest and upright, they always prospered. 
One day, however, misfortune came. A . neighboring 
farmer brought a load of wheat to be ground into flour. 
When he called the following day to get his grist, he was 
surprised and nonplussed to find that he had a quantity 
of bran, but not a particle of flour to show for his wheat. 
He was assured that this was the result of the grind just 
as they received it; so he went away, but not altogether 


121 


122 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


satisfied. Shortly afterward this same farmer brought 
another load of wheat to the mill to be ground. His con- 
sternation and disappointment were great when he dis- 
covered that the result was exactly the same as before. 
“What,” he exclaimed, “bran agin, bran agin!” And 
the name of Branagin was given to the world forever- 
more. 

It is not generally known under what flag Jim is now 
traveling, but the night operators at Hamburg may hear 
this story related by the loungers there to the present 
day. 






p ARTHER back than even the present 


old-timer can remember, the route be- 
tween Chicago and San Francisco had 
been repeatedly traversed by Aaron B. Hill- 
icker; his fine, artistic penmanship, his rapid 
sending, his merry laugh and jokes were well 
known. Hillicker was a man of good educa- 
tion and breeding, possessing rare musical 
talent, and considerable ability as a comedian. 
This latter qualification he brought into use 
occasionally when positions were scarce in the telegraph 
service. . Aaron was a great romancer, and he was prone 
to delude the '‘tenderfoot’’ who had aspirations to travel 
with the setting sun. 

He related a story one evening that vied in blood- 
curdling and romantic finale with the deeds of the re- 
nowned "Leather-vStocking.” He stated that prior to 
the completion of the Union Pacific railroad, he was 
night operator at North Platte, Nebraska. The Indians 
were very hostile, and their particular animosity seemed 
to be directed against the men of the telegraph. One 
night he was startled by a call from the operator at 
Julesburg, the nearest station west, who told him to run 
for his life, as the Indians, fifty in number, and mounted, 
were traveling in his direction and would reach him by 


1 i 


123 


124 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


daylight. Hillicker waited till the break of day, when, 
looking towards the west, he observed a troop of 
mounted men rapidly approaching the station, and de- 
cided that they must be the looked-for Indians. Hastily 
descending into a cellar, he went through a subterranean 
passage till he reached the Platte river. Here his canoe 
was in hiding, and into it he embarked, pushing it out 
into the stream, where the current of the river speedily 
distanced the Indians, and brought him to a haven of 
safety. 

The story was greatly embellished, and it made an 
impression upon one of his hearers, who undertook to 
verify it, and a few days after visited the prosperous lit- 
tle city of North Platte, where he inspected the Platte 
river and its ‘‘current.’’ He returned, convinced that 
the railroad agent’s description of the river — “It is a 
thousand miles long and two inches deep” — fully de- 
scribed it, and he was further of the opinion that Aaron 
had been romancing again. 

Hillicker told a story shortly afterward, which was 
intensely interesting. “As I was going from Omaha to 
Salt Lake City, I stopped off en route to visit my friend, 
‘Nip’ Jones, at Cheyenne. ‘Nip’ was a great hunter and 
an all-round sportsman, and about the first thing he 
asked me to do was to go hunting with him. We pro- 
vided ourselves plentifully with eatables and started out, 
meeting with fair success. We camped for lunch near 
a stream, along the banks of which grew some cotton- 
wood trees, and there we spread our repast. We did full 
justice to the meal, but there were a couple of ham 
sandwiches left over, which, not caring to pack with us, 
we threw away. A year later I returned from Salt Lake 


COLONEL DICKEY’S PAPER WEIGHT. 


125 


City, and again paid my friend 'Nip’ a visit. Once 
more we had a hunt, going over the same grounds as 
before. We stopped for luncheon at the identical spot 
as of yore; and, lo and behold! there we found the sand- 
wiches we had left on our previous expedition, but they 
were as hard as a stone and completely petrified. They 
looked just as natural as when we ate their comrades a 
year ago, and were very inviting looking to a hungry 
person. I brought them to town with me and gave 
one to Manager Snyder, of Cheyenne; and the other is 
used as a paper-weight down at Colonel J. J. Dickey’s 
office. Come down and I will show it to you.” But 
his tenderfoot friend did not accept the invitation — he 
had been to North Platte. 

It was somewhere in the ’60s that Hillicker was 
working in the San Francisco office, when he was of- 
fered an engagement at the Bella Union theater, then a 
reputable place of amusement. The engagement was 
quite successful, but Aaron was a living example of that 
old saying: "The fool and his money soon part,” and it 
was but a short time after the theater closed for the 
season that he found himself without position or money. 
He had, however, no misgivings, and started out to find 
his opportunity. It came in a peculiar manner. 

It was nearing the Christmas holidays, and the streets 
of San Francisco teemed with people in holiday attire. 
Aaron’s attention had been called to a large quantity of 
false hair, done up into whiskers, exposed for sale in one 
of the bazaars, and he found that he had just enough 
money to purchase the entire lot. He took the mass to 
his lodgings, and, with the dexterity known to the pro- 
fession, he speedily converted the hair into false mus- 


126 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


taches, and then started out to dispose of his wares. 
Selecting the corner of Pine and Montgomery streets 
as a location, he proceeded to business. Gazing at the 
passing crowds in an unutterably comical way, he would 
quickly clap some hair on his smooth upper lip, and 
changing his expression from that of a very pleasant- 
looking young man into a rakish, piratical-appearing f el- 

startle the 
the ejacula- 
they’re whis- 
mustache. If 
raise ’em you 
if you can’t 
take ’e m 
little Willie 
Hang ’em on 
mas tree!” 
the most 
pression im- 
would pull 
conclude his 
the remark : 
go coffee )^ou 


low, he would 
lookers-on by 
tion: “Well, 
kers! Get a 
you can’t 
can buy ’em; 
wear ’e m, 
home ’nd let 
wear ’e m. 
the Christ- 
Then, with 
comical e x- 
aginable, he 
his chin and 
speech with 
“If you can’t 
can goatee.” 

Hillicker 



cleared $200 

from this little speculation, all the stock in trade he pos- 
sessed being some coarse hair and his comical gestures, 
together with his little speech and facial expression. 


Probably one of the greatest pieces of Hillicker’s 
romancing was the following, which was told by himself : 

“I was working at Cornucopia, a mining town in 
Nevada, in its palmy days, where I got quite interested 


COLONEL DICKEY’S PAPER WEIGHT. 127 


in the question of quick transit, and after several weeks of 
hard study, I thought I had solved the problem which 
would make speedy locomotion perfectly safe, easy and 
comfortable. I unfolded my plans to a newspaper man 
who undertook to assist me in the new enterprise. 
Money was plenty, and we readily formed a company, 
with the capital stock placed at $1,000,000. Much se- 
crecy was attached to our movements, for the idea was 
quite new and had never been copyrighted. I do not 
mind telling about it now, though. The apparatus was 
in the shape of a balloon, with the regulation car at- 
tached to it, in which I placed an electrical appliance 
which was destined to revolutionize traveling. The 
balloon was to be filled with gas, and was to reach a 
height of at least 20,000 feet, high enough to clear the 
highest mountains. After this altitude had been reached 
it was proposed to turn on the electro-magnetic current, 
which would have the instantaneous effect of casting off 
the earth’s attraction and gravitation, rendering it for the 
time being a planet by itself. The earth travels from 
west to east, and all it was necessary to do was to com- 
pute time accurately, and when you figured out that your 
destination had Tolled around’ to you, merely turn on the 
current and again become a part and parcel of the earth. 
Of course, it was very essential that you compute your 
latitude correctly, for otherwise you might strike Cape 
Nome when you were really wanting to travel to San 
Francisco. I figured that it would take about 21 hours 
to land us from Cornucopia to New Y^ork city, for we 
would have almost the entire globe to review while we 
were resting in the mid-heavens, but to go from the 
Atlantic to the Pacific ocean it would require less than 


128 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


four hours to make the trip. This was indeed quick 
transit, and the way that I worked the problem out I 
could see that it was very feasible. 

“A sudden close-down of the Grand Prize mine, 



and the insolvency of my principal backer, temporarily 
disarranged my plans, but the idea will yet be consum- 
mated, and the question of speedy traveling will have 
been solved. Just think! the New York morning papers 
will be read in San Francisco the same morning they 


COLONEL DICKEY’S PAPER WEIGHT. 129 


are issued in New York city, beating even the telegraph. 
The only thing I am sorry for" in my invention is that 
it gives the East the best of it in the race, but I am work- 
ing on a device to equalize even that, and when it is 
completed I will give my secret to the world.’^ 

It has been a long time since the writer has heard of 
Aaron B. Hillicker, but it is very probable that he is still 
living not far from the shadows of the Wahsatch Moun- 
tains. A copy of the Salt Lake Tribune recently printed 
the following item, and it is easy to tell that our friend 
Aaron was the hero: 

^‘Last night Patrolman Smith arrested a telegraph 
operator who was en rpute home. It was a very beauti- 
ful, moonlight, starlight night, but the operator was pro- 
ceeding homewards with his umbrella up, and it was for 
this offense that he was taken by Policeman Smith, who 
apparently imagined that such conduct was a peniten- 
tiary offense. The operator was not at all disconcerted, 
and in reply to the chiefs question as to what he was 
doing with his umbrella up, very mildly replied: 'Why, 
you durned goose, you don’t suppose I want the moon 
to shine on me, do you ?’ ” 



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THE COWBOY DISPATCHER. 


I N THE broad expanse of oiir whole country there is 
no more varied scenery and such kaleidescopic pano- 
ramas of mountain and valley as one will see by jour- 
neying from Portland to San Francisco via the overland 
route. The beautiful Willamette Valley is traversed; 
the wooded Callapooia Mountains are crossed; the pic- 
turesque Rogue River Valley, with its lovely streams 
and snowclad peaks, is passed through; the Valley of 
the Shasta, the grandest of them all, is reached; and 
finally we arrive at the headwaters of the Sacramento 
river, when we are fairly in California. This is a favorite 
ride with the annual tourist, who greatly appreciates it; 
but some people are never content, or rather they grow 
blase by having too much of a good thing. 

“Ikey"’ Exstein^ a commercial drummer, in following 
his line of business, often traveled over this route. He, 
however, could see nothing in the beauties of nature, and 
all of the delights of the climate were lost on him. 
'‘Tkey’' was a practical joker, and his chief source of 
pleasure during his travels was to board the rear car, 
and, just as the train was pulling out of a station and 
was well under way, to accost the people on the plat- 
form in a loud and rude manner with exclamations like 
the following: 'Yust see that country shake! Dot man 
there dat is wearing his grandfather's hat." Or, '‘Hello, 
you fellow there with your pants in your boots; when 
did you get out of the penitentiary?" Or even, "You 
there! I know you; you yust come out of the workhouse 
in Sacramento." No one was exempt from "Ikey's" 
tirade once he got started, and his boorish conduct was 
distasteful alike to passengers and employes. 'Tkey'^ 


131 


132 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


was very careful never to start his shouting until he was 
sure that he was perfectly safe. But one day he caught • 
a Tartar. 

Jaclc Hamlin was a dispatcher for the Southern Pa- 
cific road, and, being fond of hunting and fishing, he 
determined to spend his summer vacation in the Shasta 
Valley; so it occurred that one very warm day in July 
found him at the desolate little station known on the 
map as ‘‘Hornbrook.’’ He had come in from his fish- 
ing grounds to post a letter on the afternoon California 
express train. Jack was attired in a neat buckskin suit, 
affecting the true cowboy style. A rather rakish-look- 
ing hat adorned his curly head, and a Colt’s revolver, 
stuck in a cartridge belt, made him appear a typical man 
of the mountain. Jack was a handsome fellow, full of 
courage, and would not brook an insult from any one. 

It was on this day that ^Tkey” Exstein was making 
his usual semi-monthly trip to San Francisco, and he 
was probably a little more than ordinarily hilarious. Sta- 
tion after station that he had passed during the day had 
witnessed his tirade, and when he beheld Jack Hamlin 
standing alone at Hornbrook, he was impatient to have 
the train start so that he might roast the ''cowboy.” As 
the train pulled out, "Ikey” gave a yell to attract Jack’s 
attention, and then shouted: "Oh, see the cowpoy! Say, 
vou ain’t a cowpoy! I know you, and you are a horse- 
thief! You yust escaped from San Quentin!” These 
were a few of the epithets that Hamlin heard. He could 
not understand it at first, but it dawned on him that he 
was being insulted, and his hand sought his hip pocket; 
but "Ikey,” seeing the move, dodged inside the door, 
where, with still ruder grimaces and shouting, he urged 


THE COWBOY DISPATCHER. 


133 

the '‘cow'boy” to shoot. A sudden thought seemed to 
inspire Jack, for he started on a run in pursuit of the 
train, Which was now going at a lively speed. This 
action provoked the most uproarious laughter from the 



joker, who now cried out: '^See that cowpoy trying to 
catch the train that goes to San Franceesco!'' Jack kept 
after the train, which presently whistled for “down 
brakes.^' A brakeman appeared on the rear end, and 



134 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


the now anxious 'Hkey’' asked. '‘Vot is the matter?’' 
He was told that the train was a'bout to back into a sid- 
ing to allow the northbound train to pass. ‘‘Ikey” in- 
voluntarily exclaimed: '‘Und the cowpoy is coming!” 
Negotiations were made in vain, with the several port- 
ers and train hands, to hide him, pending the arrival 
and departure of the Northern train, and finally 'Tkey" 
took refuge in the undesirable portion of the train known 
as the “blind baggage,” where he remained till after the 
train had started again on its Southern journey, when 
he left it, coming into the smoker, where he almost fell 
into the arms of the “cowboy.” Jack was serene and 
placid as his right hand played carelessly with his re- 
volver. Ikey was speechless with fright, and tried to 
mumble out an apology, but the words came slowly and 
incoherently. “Don’t be mad, Mr. Cowpoy!” he ejacu- 
lated; “dees vas von of my leetle shokes.” Gathering 
a little courage from Jack’s smiling face, he continued: 
“You see, I travel so much und I get very tired und I 
likes to have some fun. Dees vas yust von of my leetle 
shokes, und I didn^t mean anytings py it.” He further 
protested that he had never seen the “cowboy” in San 
Quentin or any other place, and bis apologies were heart- 
rendingly painful. Jack musingly said: “Oh, it was only 
a ‘shoke,’ was it? Well, I am glad of that, for if I 
thought that you meant it, I would have to kill you,” 
and he playfully toyed with his gun. Again and again 
Ikey denied that he had intended an insult, and de- 
clared over and over that it was “yust a leetle shoke.” 

After inquiring his name and business, and listening 
to further protestations from the very much frightened 
Exstein, Jack remarked: “Well, now let’s see! The 


THE COWBOY DISPATCHER. 


135 


fare from Hornbrook to Sisson’s is $3.00; return trip is 
the same; hotel expenses; laceration of feelings — say, al- 
together, $20.00. Your ‘leetle shoke’ will cost you just 
$20.00.” He glanced menacingly at his cartridge belt, 
and Ikey lost no time in producing the goldpiece. 

“Now, come with me,” said Jack, and leading the way 



they started back to the Pullman. In passing through 
the tourist car Jack noticed a poorly attired woman with 
a young babe. He asked the porter if he knew whether 
she was in poor circumstances. That functionary re- 
plied: “Yes, boss, she am very poor. She has not eaten 
a bite since we left Portland.” Courteously approach- 


136 


TALES OF THE SIERRAS. 


ing the lady, Jack gracefully lifted his hat and said: “I 
have just found a tvventy-dollar goldpiece a-rolling up 
hill, and I have no use for it. Will you allow me to 
present it to you?’' The offer was thankfully accepted, 
and the money was deposited in the poor woman’s hand, 
jTUich to Ikey^s chagrin. Arriving at the Pullman car, 
Exstein was compelled to apologize to the passengers 
for his boorish behavior, promising never again to in- 
dulge in such unseemly conduct. 

The overland train still makes its daily trips between 
Portland and San Francisco, and Mr. Ikey Exstein 
makes his regular .semi-occasional pilgrimages over the 
road, but his familiar face and figure are never seen any 
more on the back platform of the Pullman sleeper. His 
lesson was salutary and complete. 







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